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HELEN 





WHAT’S HE TO ME? 


BY 

A. A. HILL 

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WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 


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NEW YORK 

HOWARD O. BULLARD 

PUBLISHER 


19U 



Copyright, 1914 
BY HOWARD O. BULLARD 



SEP 22 1914 

©CI.A'J79G17 


“If a man write a book, let him set down only 
what he knows; I have guesses enough of my own.” 
— Goethe. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


By SYD. B GRIFFIN. 


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WHAT’S HE TO ME? 


CHAPTER I 

And it should be with every man, that when he is chased by 
troubles, they, chasing, shall raise him higher and higher. — H enry 
Ward Beecher. 

Frazier was growing irritable. There was no 
doubt about that. He was in the mood when even 
a friendly dog with a conciliatory wave of his tail 
was a temptation to kick. As he sat in his 6x8 den 
that served as editorial sanctum he owned himself 
discouraged. But to himself only did he confess 
that feeling. Had a subscriber or an advertiser 
tapped at the door, Frazier would have been all 
smiles and optimism. For he realized that the 
world’s estimate of a man’s business is that which 
he himself puts upon it. 

For the moment the door was closed, the shade 
down. Just then there was but one encouraging 
reflection for Harold Frazier, editor and publisher, 
and it was in the old maxim that “when things get 
as bad as they can be, they always begin to mend.” 
He had made up his mind with a somewhat cynical 


8 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


humor that if matters were not then as bad as they 
could be, the immediate future promised to be de- 
cidedly interesting. 

It had been an especially trying day. Everything 
had gone wrong. Early that morning, the first day 
of the month, and before Frazier had his coat off 
and was fairly ready for work, the landlord had 
presented the monthly rent bill with an air that be- 
tokened “Now I know you won’t pay it; but if you 
don’t, out you go.’’ 

Of course Frazier expected to pay the rent, but 
one is always a little more sensitive to a prompt de- 
mand to pay a debt when he finds it inconvenient to 
do so. Then the city editor, who was a reporter as 
well, had asked for a raise in wages of from $15 to 
$18 a week, a not altogether unreasonable request 
considering his duties, which covered about eighteen 
hours out of the twenty-four, and the fact that he 
was extremely loyal to the paper and to his em- 
ployer. 

Had he known that Frazier himself usually went 
home after every weekly payday not only with an 
empty pocket but with an extremely vague and ap- 
prehensive notion as to where the money was com- 
ing from to pay off the week following, he would 
probably have deferred this rather reluctantly made 
demand. 

And last but not least the biggest drygoods mer- 


THE WEAKNESS 


9 


chant in town had just refused to advertise, not on 
the ground that the Review had a rather small cir- 
culation; it was worse than that. His establishment 
chanced to be next door to the Review office and its 
cashier had faithfully kept tab on every beat of the 
press with the result that the merchant claimed the 
Review had a circulation of only about 1,200 copies, 
when Frazier felt constrained to intimate as clearly 
as possible but without absolutely saying so, that it 
had twice that number. 

It was a rather tough business proposition, this 
Evening Review enterprise. True, the income was 
equal to the outgo, but it left no surplus for deferred 
payments on the new machinery or the interest on 
the mortgage, much less any reduction of the prin- 
cipal. 

Harold Frazier had come to the town a stranger 
about a year before, with determination and enthus- 
iasm. But Success did not come so quicklyv as he 
expected, and the jade seldom does! Sometimes 
Frazier thought he made too good a paper, and 
sometimes that it was not good enough, and al- 
though either extreme in journalism is dangerous, 
superiority is rather more liable to be fatal. 

Things had not gone quite right in the editorial 
department any more than they had in the business 
office. There were mutterings from the labor 
union leaders to the effect that Frazier did not come 


lO 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


out and support the workers in their cause, as they 
deserved. On the other hand, the employing class, 
among whom was one multi-millionaire, who, ruling 
the city as dogmatically as did any German baron in 
the days of feudalism, found fault with him because 
he did not champion the cause of capital. The situa- 
tion was thus decidedly uncomfortable. 

But Frazier’s meditations were cut short by the 
sudden stopping of the printing press in the base- 
ment. 

“That press has balked again,” he muttered, as 
he jumped to his feet. “Our usual luck!” 

He rushed down stairs. 

“What’s the matter?” he exclaimed to the press- 
man, as that functionary stood looking over the 
giant machine, trying to learn the cause of the 
crumpled sheets clogging about the cylinders and un- 
der the tapes. 

“I’m blessed if I know,” replied the pressman. 
“It seems just to be having one of its balky days.” 

“Loosen your tapes,” said Frazier, “and I think 
she’ll go all right. You ought to remember that 
the air is unusually humid today and the tapes 
shrink more than you imagine.” 

Frazier threw off his coat and went to work. 

Printing presses possess certain human attributes ; 
they are obstinate or hysterical; they are sullen or 
amiable or defiant or placable; they have colds and 


THE RIFT 


n 


fevers and rheumatism and biliousness. Sometimes 
tiiey need coaxing, sometimes threatening, and some- 
times doctoring. And proving the old saying, “it 
never rains but it pours," the Review press had sud- 
denly refused to work, just when papers were needed 
so badly for the mails, the carriers and the news- 
boys. 

“Start her up, boys,” said Frazier, finally, after 
the tapes had been well loosened and the cutter 
slightly raised to do its work more completely, “and 
see if she will run.” The belt was again thrown on 
and the printed and folded sheets were soon falling 
with precision. 

Frazier gave a sigh of relief, thankful for one 
rift in a day of cloud and storm. He soon returned 
to the business office to talk with the bookkeeper, 
who was likewise business manager, a young man to 
whom Nature seemed to owe a grudge in all save- 
his head and face, and the intellect and soul behind 
it. His limbs were dwarfed and twisted by disease 
and suffering; but his face was perfect — clean cut 
and classic, and his broad white forehead and hand- 
some dark hair and eyes were fit for a god’s, while 
the whole was illumined by the spiritual beauty 
within. 

Both men had strength of character, although 
Frazier possessed a tall, well-knit figure, with 
squared shoulders and firm jaw, determination being 


12 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


expressed in every line. From a child he had al- 
ways been perfectly capable of taking care of him- 
self and no one ever thought for a moment that he 
needed sympathy or encouragement; not even in the 
days of his boyhood when he fought his own battles 
while other lads were still being petted and coddled 
by their mothers. 

Don — the bookkeeper’s name was Gordon Don- 
ald, but Frazier always called him Don — seemed to 
look through bone and muscle into the heart and 
feelings of Frazier, and in a way that he dimly 
understood without analyzing. Donald too had 
struggled, but it was for health and strength, and 
the friendship between the two men was as strong 
and tender as it was unaccountable to some who 
knew them both. 

“Don,” said Frazier, “how much more do we 
need to make up the payroll?” 

“Fifty dollars or more.” 

“Whew I How in the world are we to get it! 
What would we best do, pray or swear?” 

“It would not do much good to do either,” said 
Donald. “I have never experienced any assured 
effect from prayer, and swearing has a tendency to 
bring self-contempt. It’s pretty hard, I know, but 
we had to pay the paper bill the other day, and then 
there was the rent this morning. Of course Land- 
lord Hoppin thought we would put him off. What 


THE SACRIFICE 


13 


a pity it is one can’t be hard up without the world 
knowing it and gloating over it.” 

“But how under the sun are we going to scrape 
enough money together to meet the payroll, Don?” 
contined Frazier. “There’s nothing of any conse- 
quence we can collect, is there?” 

“No; I can’t see how we can raise more than a 
few dollars before Saturday.” 

“But it won’t do not to pay the help; that would 
be fatal.” 

“Well, I know what can be done on a pinch,” said 
Donald. “I have a diamond ring at home that was 
left me by my father. I never wear it and it may 
as well make itself useful. It’s worth $200. Take 
it to New York tonight on the midnight train, pawn 
it in the morning and you can get back here by 
afternoon with the money. Even the money lender 
ought to be willing to give you $100 on it, and it will 
tide you over until we can make more collections, 
or something else turns up.” 

“Oh, no, Don, that’s too much. I am willing you 
should work here for a song and with not much hope 
of future reward, but you should not suggest any 
such thing as that, old fellow. It’s going too far 
and would be like ‘riding a free horse to death.’ ” 

“Pshaw 1 Why, Frazier, it is these little things that 
make business spicy and exciting. My life has al- 
ways been more or less humdrum, and the thought 


14 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


of being hard up and of usurers is rather alluring 
to me — savors of romance, you know. I should be 
glad to do it if it were for myself alone, but when 
it is for you and a good cause, why, it becomes all 
the more stimulating and fascinating, so to speak.” 

“Now let us not think of that for the present at 
any rate,” insisted Frazier. “It is not a good plan 
to borrow from such a source so long as there is 
any other expedient. We must have at least $8,000 
sooner or later, for that mortgage becomes due 
some time this month. It only runs a year, you 
know. You are better acquainted in town than I 
am; isn’t there some one here who would let me have, 
say $10,000 on the plant, taking up the present mort- 
gage and replacing it by another for that amount? 
What is the matter with Percy Piggott? They say 
he has plenty of money, and he wants to be the next 
candidate for state senator in this district. Don’t 
you suppose he would let us have the money?” 

“No, Piggott wouldn’t do it. Although he has 
the name of being one of our best citizens, he never 
takes any chances where money is involved.” 

“Well, then, how about Frederick Boucher? He 
is a stockholder in the upper mill, and although he 
has never shown any great friendliness to the Re- 
view, we have always treated him with the consider- 
ation that wealth and social position receive in con- 
servative — and I was about to say substantial — 


THE DOUBT 


15 

newspapers like ours. Don’t you think we might 
get the money of him?” 

“It is very doubtful,” replied Donald after a 
moment’s reflection. “He is another man who 
doesn’t do things of that sort. He had to earn 
every dollar he has got, and it came too hard for 
him to think of parting with any of it on what may 
be considered an uncertainty.” 

“But men like that ought to be the first to help 
a fellow out on an occasion of this kind.” 

“Yes, they ought to be, but they are not, Frazier. 
Boucher became wealthy simply because he likes 
money more than anything else in the world — more 
than friendliness, benevolence or character even. 
You won’t get it out of him.” 

“How about Denny McGrath? They say he has 
a lot of real estate, besides being extensively en- 
gaged in the liquor business. I don’t even mind 
getting the money from a liquor-seller; sinner or 
saint, it matters not to me. The main thing is to 
get it.” 

“I should very much doubt that even McGrath 
would let you have it,” said Donald after a pause. 
“He has probably got as much of the milk of human 
kindness in him as either of the other two, and I 
have always found that there is no special virtue in 
a trade, occupation or profession. It is usually the 
man himself who counts; not his business and not 


i6 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


always his reputation. Now I wouldn’t be surprised 
if Julius Cohen would let you have the money as 
quickly as any one. He is a Jew, I know, and a 
dollar looks as big as a cart-wheel to him. But he 
has been known to let out money at a good rate of 
interest, and it would do no harm to try him. Of 
course you might go to the others. In a fix of this 
kind we can’t afford to leave anything undone.” 

“By the way,” said Frazier, after a pause, “there 
is to be a meeting of some leading Republicans to- 
morrow night to talk over the coming municipal 
campaign. They are to discuss candidates and pol- 
icy, I suppose. I have been invited; not that they 
think the Review is a Republican organ, but they 
probably want all the help they can get. I suppose 
Boucher and Piggott will both be there, although 
the meeting is private and is to be kept quiet. I 
wonder if it would be a good idea to take both Pig- 
gott and Boucher one side after it is over and 
explain the situation — tell them in effect that they 
may need a little assistance during the coming cam- 
paign and that one good turn deserves another. Of 
course I should like to kick myself across the room 
for going into any such deal, but beggars have no 
right to be overscrupulous or have any decided 
principles. The Republicans are eminently respec- 
table — better than their party, just as the democrats 
are worse than the principles of their party, but it 


THE PLAN 


17 


makes me uneasy to think of being owned by either. 
Yet what do you say, Don, isn’t my plan worth try- 
ing?” 

“By all means, Frazier. If they want the Re- 
view’s support, they ought to be willing to support 
the Review.” 


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CHAPTER II 

Vanity is a blue-bottle, which buzzes in the window of the 
wise. — Proverb. 

The next morning, before Frazier had fairly be- 
gun his work, he received a somewhat distinguished 
caller. She was tall and stately, with the peculiar 
tilt of the shoulders common to women of aggres- 
sive minds and tongues. Frazier felt her uncom- 
promising personality, although his artistic sense was 
somewhat soothed by the fashionable cut of her gray 
broadcloth gown. A gray chenille toque, effectively 
combined with white, rested becomingly on a mass 
of iron gray hair. Her face was handsome. The 
features were clear and regular, and the coloring 
was rich, but the beauty of both was marred by the 
imperiousness expressed in the droop of the lips 
and the eyelids. 

“I am Mrs. Royal Quincy,” she remarked some- 
what impressively, as she seated herself in the edi- 
torial den. “I am going to introduce myself, since 
you are such a hard worker I am never likely to 
make your acquaintance socially. You may have 
heard of me. I am the Regent of the Puritan chap- 
ter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. 
19 


20 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


I am also an officer in the Women’s Christian Tem- 
perance Union. We shall doubtless meet occa- 
sionally now that the work of the various organiza- 
tions with which I am connected has fairly begun, 
for we all recognize the power of the press and its 
help in all good works. Being an energetic worker 
I am naturally dragged before the public a good 
deal and am obliged to sacrifice my personal feelings 
to doing what good I am able.” 

Frazier bowed with respectful attention. 

“You may not know,” continued Mrs. Quincy, 
“for the Daughters of the American Revolution have 
always avoided newspaper notoriety, that we are 
to have our annual meeting and election of officers 
this evening. Although I am reluctant to serve an- 
other year as regent, I shall doubtless be urged to 
do so. But I only consented to have my name used 
again on condition that it was the wish of the entire 
chapter. Here is an address I shall make on taking 
the chair after my re-election. If you wish, you 
may print it in connection with the report of the 
meeting. I know that reporters are not always 
correct and I want to be sure that it is printed 
right.” 

Frazier expressed his thanks, and remarked that 
his visitor must be extremely busy. 

“Yes, there isn’t an hour in the day or evening 
that I can call my own. Of course the D. A. R. is 






THE CONFESSION 


21 


my pet organization — something of a social or fam- 
ily affair, you know, but there is much church work 
to be done. In a manufacturing city like this there 
are many improvident families to look after. They 
are like children, and some have no more idea of 
economy than they have of the moon.” 

“But,” suggested Frazier, “I understand that 
heads of many families in the mills here earn only 
a dollar a day, and there isn’t much chance for being 
improvident on that.” 

“Yes, there are a few such cases. My brother, 
you know, is the practical owner of the upper mill, 
and I am pretty familiar with the earnings of some 
of the help. While the men in some cases only earn 
about a dollar a day, there is plenty of work for 
their children, some of whom earn three or four 
dollars a week, which brings up the income of the 
family to quite a liberal allowance for that class, and 
the help there are as well paid as in other large fac- 
tories. I say this, although my brother and I are 
not on good terms, owing to a business transaction in 
which he proved anything but brotherly. And he 
has just been made a deacon of the Baptist church,” 
continued Mrs. Quincy garrulously. “Knowing we 
are not on the best of terms, my friends thought it 
would make it embarrassing for me, as I am a mem- 
ber of the same church, but I tell them it will take 
more than James Ashbell to make me deny my Sav- 


22 


WHAVS HE TO ME? 


iour. The first prayer-meeting after he was made 
deacon, he rose in his seat to make a few remarks, 
but he caught my eye and had the grace to sit down. 
He just about runs the church, and the people are all 
afraid of him, but he can’t frighten me. Whenever 
he gets the courage to get up in meeting and tell 
what the gospel has done for him, I will be ready 
for him. I’ve got my ammunition. I don’t come 
of fighting Revolutionary stock for nothing.” 

“It would indeed be a grand opportunity under 
these circumstances for you to quicken his conscience 
in a prayer-meeting with a few cutting words,” re- 
turned Frazier. “But, of course, you would do it 
discreetly and with a Christian spirit,” he added, 
with a touch of unnoticed sarcasm. 

Mrs. Quincy seemed pleased at his approval and 
arose to go. 

“I am afraid I have talked too long and too 
frankly,” she said, feeling she had another partisan. 
“But I hope you will make a good report of our 
D. A. R. meeting. My speech is typewritten, so 
you will have no. difficulty in reading it. Good 
morning, Mr. Frazier.” 

Frazier had hardly got seated to work again 
when there came a tap at the door. It was the 
foreman of the composing room. 

“Well, William, what is it?” 

“There is a matter that has been making trouble 


THE UNION 


23 


for some time,” was the reply, “which I have been 
thinking of speaking to you about but have neglected 
it. It has gone so far that the boys in the composing 
room have taken it up and say it must be stopped 
or there will be a strike. You know, I presume, 
that Donald has been working one of the linotype 
machines after six o’clock in the evening, and as he 
has not learned the trade or served his time for a 
printer and does not belong to the union, this is 
something our rules forbid. The men insist that he 
work no more on that machine or there will be a 
strike at once.” 

“But William,” said Frazier, “Donald is working 
purely in the interest of the paper and not for what 
he gets out of it. I am obliged to pay him small 
wages as a bookkeeper — far less than he is worth — 
and if he chooses to come here in the evening and 
earn a dollar or two extra, without injuring any one, 
I don’t see what right you have to prevent it.” 

“But we have the right, simply because our union 
rules forbid it. They insist that no man shall work 
in the office without a union card, and he can’t get 
a union card until he has been three years at the 
business and learned the trade. This Donald has 
not done.” 

“Well,” said Frazier, after a moment’s reflection, 
“Donald can do the work on the machine satisfac- 
torily. He has no objection to becoming a member 


24 


fVHATS HE rO ME? 


of the printers’ union. He needs the work. I need 
to have the work done. Now I am a believer in 
organized labor, but when it goes as far as this, 
then I think it is unjust and unreasonable. You 
may strike as quickly as you please. Donald is 
going to run that machine, if he wishes.” 

“All right,” said the foreman, “you are making 
a great mistake. The men will stop work as soon 
as I carry back what you say, and you will find it 
impossible to get out a paper today.” With this he 
retired. 

In five minutes every man in the composing room 
came filing out through the business office with his 
coat on. 

“What’s the matter?” inquired Donald in dismay. 
“What have you stopped work for?” 

“You ought to know,” said one of the men. 

“I — what have I to do about it?” 

“Simply this: You have been working on one of 
the machines at night and you have no business to.” 

“What! I have no business to! Well, just wait a 
minute, boys. Tell me about this.” 

“Why you are not a printer. You have never 
learned the trade. You don’t belong to the union 
and we wouldn’t take you in simply because you 
haven’t served an apprenticeship. If we took in 
such fellows as you in a little while there would be 
so many printers that we wouldn’t be earning a dol- 


THE DEMAND 


25 


lar a day. Mr. Frazier can’t seem to see into it, 
but he may come to his senses when he finds he can’t 
get out any paper.” 

“I see,” said Donald. “I don’t know but what 
you are right, after all, from your standpoint. Go 
back to work, and I will fix it up with Mr. Frazier. 
He doesn’t quite understand it, but I think I do.” 

“That’s all right enough, but we must have Mr. 
Frazier’s word for it. We can’t be trifled with any 
longer; we mean business.” 

“Very well; give me just fifteen minutes. Go 
back into the composing room and wait. If 1 don’t 
fix it to your satisfaction in that time, why, strike. 
Seems to me that any man ought to give another at 
least that time to make up his mind on a business 
proposition. I can only promise to do the best I 
can with Mr. Frazier, and I think he’ll see your 
point.” 

The men consented, but not without some grum- 
bling, and went back into the composing room to 
await the reply. 

Donald went into Frazier’s den and found that 
he had overheard some of the colloquy. 

“The boys object to my working on the linotype 
machine,” said Donald. “I see their point, and be- 
lieve they are more than half right after all.” 

“Well, I don’t,” remarked Frazier, interrupting. 
“Here you are working for a pittance, and I am 


26 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


working for less, hoping to put this newspaper on a 
paying basis, so that there may be something in it 
for all of us — work for more printers, better pay 
for yourself, and perhaps a little something for me, 
after a while. Must my interests and yours, and 
even the employment of the printers themselves, be 
jeopardized by any such senseless idea as not allow- 
ing a man to work who needs it and wants it? Can’t 
we have a little individual liberty? It seems to me 
that it has come to a pretty pass when a man can’t 
work for whom and what he pleases.” 

“I must confess that at first thought your view 
seems logical and fair,” said Don. “But if work- 
ing for whom and what a man pleases means work- 
ing for whom and for what a man’s employer pleases 
— and it would mean nothing else if there were no 
labor unions — then if I were a mechanic I should 
rather work for whom and for what the labor unions 
dictate than for whom and for what the employer 
dictates; for however we may detest certain labor 
union methods and tendencies, we must admit that 
they are trying to raise wages and shorten hours, 
while the employer is trying to lower wages and 
lengthen hours.” 

“Repeat that, Don,” said Frazier. “Seems as 
if there were an idea there that I never thought of.” 

Donald repeated the remark, adding: “As much 
as you and many others have studied the industrial 


THE SITUATION 


27 


problem, you have not fully comprehended the fact 
that trades union organizations are based upon the 
principle that individual interests must be sacrificed 
for the good of the whole. My interests are of 
course important to me and so are yours to you, but 
they must not be allowed to weigh against the in- 
terests of labor in general. I presume you will see 
it after a little thought.” 

“Well, this is a queer state of things,” said 
Frazier, with a sigh. “Men who want to work are 
not allowed to, and men who are allowed to, won’t; 
thousands of tramps in the country who have 
reached a point in their downward career where 
they will not work, hundreds of thousands of men 
and women who are neither tramps nor shirkers, 
but who need work and cannot find work to do — 
and millions who do more than they ought to do. 
We pride ourselves on our form of government, 
and yet the bees and ants are well ahead of us, for 
they kill the drones and let the lazy starve. Of 
course it is as you say: The fewer printers there 
are the more work and consequently the better wages 
for those who are already in the trade. But what 
a woeful system it is that makes it necessary to pre- 
vent men from doing the work they want to do and 
for which they are fitted. However, I guess we’d 
better give in.” 

“Glad you think so,” responded Don. 



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CHAPTER III 


There is no gambling like politics. . . . Nothing in which 
the power of circumstance is more evident. — Disraeli. 

The political gathering to discuss the municipal 
campaign was in one of the private parlors of the 
leading hotel. Frazier did not arrive until late and 
the meeting proved a small one, six or seven only 
being present, but these included the postmaster of 
the city, the chairman of the Republican city com- 
rnittee and two or three leading business men, Mr. 
Ashbell, Mr. Boucher and Mr. Piggott. 

Mr. Boucher called the gathering to order and 
made a few introductory remarks. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have called this meeting 
of a few of our well known business men, including 
the chairman of the Republican city committee, 
merely as a preliminary movement for the coming 
city election. As you know there has been some 
talk of citizens’ caucuses, but as for me I am a be- 
liever in party responsibility in municipal govern- 
ment and prefer to entrust the affairs of the city to 
the grand old Republican party. If we see to it 
that only good and true men are nominated and we 
all work together, we can no doubt sweep the city 
as we used to do. I notice that some of our Demo- 


29 


30 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


cratic friends are making overtures to the labor 
element. Now while I am not opposed to organ- 
ized labor, and hold that the interests of labor and 
capital are identical, the affairs of the city will be 
best carried on by placing them in the hands of our 
substantial business men — the men who pay the 
taxes. I don’t want to see them turned over to an 
irresponsible class that has no personal interest in 
the welfare of the city. Men who cannot manage 
their own affairs are not fit to rule others.” 

Mr. Boucher went on in this strain at considerable’ 
length, and his remarks were received with expres- 
sions of unqualified approval. He closed by calling 
upon the chairman of the Republican city committee 
for his view. 

That gentleman remarked that while he fully con- 
curred in what had been said, it was necessary to 
have a ticket selected that could be elected. He 
believed it would be poor policy to place a ticket in 
the field that would be objectionable to labor unions. 
The duties of the city committee were to find out the 
sentiment of the Republican voters and to help crys- 
tallize it; they were not to create or change it. He 
had probed that sentiment deeply enough to find that 
even among the rank and file of Republicans there 
was a strong labor sentiment. He would much re- 
gret to see the affairs of the city turned over to irre- 
sponsible labor agitators, but he thought that fight- 


THE POLITICIAN 31 

ing them in the open was not the best way to avoid 
this outcome. 

Mr. James Ashbell, the owner of the upper mill, 
then arose and said that in a measure he approved 
of the views of both gentlemen who had just spoken, 
although it might seem as if one contradicted the 
other. As one of the heaviest taxpayers of the city, 
he did not want to see the labor element rule, but he 
thought there was a better way than to come out 
openly and oppose it. 

“From all I can learn,” continued he, “we are in 
danger of losing this election, unless we exercise the 
utmost care. I have had men out whom I can trust 
getting the feeling among the workmen at the mills, 
and they report an organized effort to elect a labor 
ticket from top to bottom. This being the case, we 
want to choose candidates they will not oppose and 
adopt a platform as favorable to their interests as 
possible. If I may be pardoned for using a Scrip- 
tural quotation, the time has come when it is neces- 
sary for us to be as ‘wise as serpents and harmless 
as doves.’ My plan is to select some one as a can- 
didate for mayor who is popular with the working 
men — he should be a Republican, of course — and 
we must be sure he is of our kind. Then put on 
the ticket for members of the city council several 
from the working classes. This I know is not what 
we should like, but we must face conditions as they 


32 


WHAVS HE TO ME? 


are. Theory is one thing; practical politics is an- 
other. I am, of course, willing to contribute liber- 
ally for campaign purposes.” 

The remarks of Mr. Ashbell were considered wise 
and judicious by all present, and the chairman of the 
city committee was urged to carry out his ideas as 
far as possible. The names of several were men- 
tioned as candidates for mayor, but it was finally 
deemed advisable at the suggestion of Mr. Ashbell 
to nominate, if possible, Henry Furman. There 
were some protests when it was first announced that 
Mr. Furman had been objectionable to labor in the 
past, but Mr. Ashbell said that while he did not 
care to have the remark made public, as he consid- 
ered it a private gathering of gentlemen actuated 
only in behalf of the best business interests of the 
city, he would fully vouch for Mr. Furman and state 
that he knew him to be in sympathy with whatever 
would serve to upbuild the city. 

Mr. Ashbell usually had his way at gatherings of 
this kind, so it was practically settled that Henry 
Furman should be made the candidate. 

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, Frazier 
asked Mr. Boucher and Mr. Piggott if he could see 
them in another room for a moment. Of course 
they would be delighted. They had no idea what 
was coming. 

“I was thinking,” said Frazier, when they were 


THE PROPOSAL 


33 


alone and seated, “that in view of the fact that you 
may desire at least no opposition on the part of the 
Review in the coming municipal campaign, which 
promises to be an unusually close and heated one, 
that you might be willing to give me a little assist- 
ance. I am in financial difficulties. There is a 
mortgage of $8,000 on my printing plant which 
comes due this month and I have no way to meet it. 
I also owe about $1,000 on one of my linotype ma- 
chines, and need some ready money to push the 
Review ahead and put it upon a paying and influen- 
tial basis. I wonder if it would be too much to ask 
you two gentlemen to endorse a note for me for 
$10,000, taking a mortgage on the plant for that 
amount. I have every reason to believe I can pay 
it off in five years, and am willing to do everything 
I can consistently for your cause in this election or 
for you personally, if you will do me the favor.” 

Mr. Boucher looked at Mr. Piggott. Mr. Pig- 
gott looked at Mr. Boucher. They acknowledged 
that the request was a little sudden and Mr. Bou- 
cher hastened to say he had made a promise to his 
wife a few days before that he would never again 
endorse a note for anyone. His experience in such 
transactions had been unfortunate — most unfortu- 
nate — in the past. But he deeply sympathized with 
Mr. Frazier in his difficulty and wished him well. 

Mr. Piggott, however, was at once interested. 


34 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


and remarked with some earnestness that he had 
always recognized the power of the press. 

“You can’t do much in politics without a news- 
paper,” said he, “and I know they’re not run for 
fun. Possibly you may not know it,” he continued 
with a reflective smile, “but I used to be a news- 
paper reporter myself, when I was a young fellow. 
Wrote local items for my little home paper, and if 
I do say it, I made things lively. If I wasn’t in 
politics, I don’t know but what I’d get into the news- 
paper business again. I rather like it.” 

“Pray don’t misunderstand me,” said Frazier. 
“I am not here to sell the influence of the Review. 
I merely recognize the fact that the Republican 
party needs all the newspaper assistance it can get 
in this campaign and as little opposition as possible. 
The election is important to you and both sides will 
do all in their power to win. I should try to use 
the Republican party and your own candidacy fairly, 
even though you did not feel that you could accom- 
modate me with this money. Yet the proposition 
is purely a business one, and if you conclude to let 
me have the loan, I hardly think you will have occa- 
sion to criticize the Review’s treatment of your 
ticket.” 

After some deliberation Mr. Piggott concluded 
he would accommodate Frazier. He said a thing of 
this kind was a little out of his line, but he felt sure 


THE COMPACT 


35 


that if Mr. Frazier’s indebtedness were relieved the 
Republican party would lose nothing by it. As to 
his own individual interests, it was well known that 
he had been prevailed upon to become a candidate 
for the upper branch of the legislature. He recog- 
nized the responsibilities the office entailed, but the 
call seemed to be so general, and especially from 
among the better classes of the business community, 
that he did not see how he could refuse it. And 
now that he had decided to go into the fight he pro- 
posed to do everything in his power to win. So it 
was finally settled that he would supply the money 
for Frazier and take a mortgage on the newspaper 
plant. 

“Possibly,” said he, “it may be as well to make 
the mortgage payable on demand, although I shall 
not call for the money until you feel perfectly able 
to pay it. I presume your machinery, presses, etc., 
are ample security?” 

“I think the plant will inventory more than twice 
the amount of money I want,” replied Frazier. 

“Well, call around to my office tomorrow and 
my attorney will draw up the papers, for I suppose 
you are anxious to have the matter settled at once.” 

Frazier thanked him warmly, bade both gentle- 
men good night and went home. 

The financial load was removed from his mind, 
but in place of it another had been substituted which 


36 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


although not quite so pressing was none the less 
burdensome. True, he had made no promise of 
active political support; his compact was rather that 
he would not oppose, with the possible inference that 
he might tacitly favor. This being the situation, his 
mind was not exactly easy as to what would be ex- 
pected and perhaps demanded. His purpose, how- 
ever, was to give the news of each side fully and 
fairly, but to make no attempt to influence the voters 
editorially. He walked home not feeling especially 
exultant over the outcome. 


CHAPTER IV 


Women can not see so far as men can, but what they do see 
they see quicker. — Buckle. 

Frazier came into the office next morning with 
such a dejected face that Donald concluded he had 
not been successful in his quest for a loan of money. 

“Well, you did not succeed?” he half affirmed and 
half queried, 

“Yes; I did, Don. But it is a question whether a 
failure would not have been more to my credit. 1 
am to get the money to-day of Percy Piggott. And 
now to prove my good faith I suppose I must write 
two editorials for to-day’s issue, one giving a nod of 
approbation for the Republican party and assuring 
our readers that at the proper time it will as usual 
put a municipal ticket into the field that will com- 
mend itself to our intelligent and public-spirited citi- 
zens, and another to the effect that there is a well- 
defined public sentiment in favor of the election of 
Percy Piggott for the upper branch of the legisla- 
ture. Of course I shall be expected to say that 
although he was reluctant to accept the call, he will 
not shrink from what he believes to be his duty, and 
possibly my master may assume that I should con- 
clude with the thought that the personal reluctance 
37 


PFHArS HE TO ME? 


38 

of the individual weighs nothing compared to the 
public weal. O, well, 1 suppose I may as well start 
right in now and attempt to keep the implied cove- 
nant. But to tell the truth I rather hate myself for 
it.” 

“O, never mind that,” commented Don. “Most 
of our readers, as well as our local advertisers, are 
largely in the Republican party.” 

“Never mind it?” repeated Frazier, rather bit- 
terly. “That'S easy enough said but uncomfortable 
to know. I hate to have my conscience and voice 
tied, and until now I have always had the good for- 
tune to write as I felt — to tell the truth and in 
some cases shame the devil.” 

“True enough,” replied Don. “Yet in spite of 
the fact you have always seemed rather to adhere 
to the Democratic party, it seems to me to be a 
party of policy rather than principle — of pretension 
rather than performance. Take one instance; The 
Democrats and the labor reformers in this city are 
finding fault because of the long hours of child labor 
in our mills and charge it all to the Republican own- 
ers, although in the South, where the Democrats 
have been in power for years, the hours of work of 
children are far longer and the pay far less.” 

“There may be something in that, Don. It is 
not that I love the Democratic party more but the 
Republican party less. And it galls me to think that 


THE REFORMER 


39 

I have not only mortgaged the Review machinery, 
but muzzled its columns and opinions.” 

“Well, it is rather unpleasant, I confess,” re- 
joined Donald banteringly. “But you are consid- 
ered something of a radical and agitator and the 
public will not be surprised if you are a little incon- 
sistent.” 

“Yes, Don; a radical for reform and an agitator 
for justice, and somehow this seems to be a stigma 
in the minds of many; so a little more or less re- 
proach will not amount to much. It’s not so much 
the good opinion of the public as my good opinion 
of myself I care for.” 

Frazier’s remarks were cut short by a ring of the 
telephone. Catching. up the receiver, he said: 

“Hello— what is it?” 

“I am Miss Warren — Helen Warren,” came over 
the ’phone. “There was a meeting of the Daugh- 
ters of the American Revolution last night and I had 
the honor to be elected historian. If you want a re- 
port of the meeting for the Review, you can come to 
see me. If you will send a reporter up to my house. 
No. 1 8 West street, I shall be glad to tell him about 
it.” 

“Where’s Downs?” ejaculated Frazier, hanging 
up the receiver. “He must go up to see a Miss 
Warren to get a report of that D. A. R. meeting last 
night.” 


40 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“He has not come in yet,” said Donald. “You 
had better go yourself. Miss Warren is one of the 
brightest girls in the city; pretty, too.” 

“Well, I don’t care a rap for all the beauty or 
wit there is in town,” said Frazier, “but I suppose 
I may as well go. It won’t take many minutes, and 
if we don’t have a report of that D. A. R. meeting 
with Mrs. Royal Quincy’s speech, there will be the 
devil to pay.” 

Miss Warren lived in an old colonial house, built 
in a day when stability and utility were more ad- 
mired than ornament. The architect had relieved 
its severity of outline by fluted pilasters, a graceful 
porch with carved entablature, and the windows were 
framed with moulded architraves. Inside was a fine 
old staircase with a polished rail, a tall clock in rose- 
wood frame, with a brass face showing the phases 
of the moon and the day of the month. The draw- 
ing-room was full of quaint old mahogany, while on 
the walls were old portraits massively framed in 
gilt. 

But there was nothing antique about Helen War- 
ren. She had the fresh pink and white complexion 
of a child, and the manner of the modern woman. 
She was alert, piquant and businesslike. She 
greeted Frazier with: 

“You are the editor of the Review, I presume. 
Awfully sorry you had to come over here, but I 


THE JOKE 


41 


knew you’d want a report of that meeting. Well, 
we had a rattling time. The fighting spirit of ’76 
came near causing a row. But of course you 
mustn’t print that. I think that after another dec- 
ade of women’s clubs, we girls will be ready for the 
ballot.” 

“Mrs. Quincy was kind enough to give us the 
manuscript of her speech accepting a re-election as 
Regent,” said Frazier. “It is all in type.” 

“She did? Well, that’s a good joke!” and Miss 
Warren went off into peals of laughter. But she 
stopped suddenly with; 

“You’ll laugh too, when I tell you how the meet- 
ing resulted. I suppose there isn’t a D. A. R. chap- 
ter in the country that does not have its warring 
faction. Ours is no exception. For two years a 
certain element has ruled the chapter, and for sev- 
eral months past there has been some active elec- 
tioneering going on. They finally elected Mrs. 
Winterburn for Regent. She is a calm soul, easy- 
going and good natured, so they rightly considered 
she would make a good official. And what do you 
think? When the ballots were counted Mrs. 
Quincy had but two votes and one of them was mine. 
I like her. She is clever and open-hearted. She’s 
a good fighter and I like that, but she sometimes 
doesn’t know when she is defeated.” 


42 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


“Why is she not popular?” asked Frazier. “She 
seems to be public-spirited.” 

“It would be hard to say. It was bad policy to 
put her out this year though, for we have been try- 
ing to get the state convention for our city and now 
she won’t do a thing to help it. She has a beautiful 
home, wears charming gowns, and in spite of the 
Ashbell characteristic, she will spend money freely if 
it redounds to her own glory. No harm in that. 
That’s human nature.” 

“Was she offended by the outcome?” asked 
Frazier. 

“Apparently not. That’s what I admire about 
her. That’s the Ashbell grit. I began to suspect 
before the meeting was half over that it was to be 
her Waterloo, yet she was as calm, gracious and 
affable as if she were about to be unanimously 
elected. But look out for snags. There’ll be no 
receptions at ‘The Elms’ this year, and of course 
we’ll lose the state convention.” 

Miss Warren then gave the details of the meet- 
ing and as Frazier rose to go, held out her hand 
cordially : 

“I feel well acquainted with you, for Gordon 
Donald has told me much about you, and Gordon 
likes you. When you have known him as long as 
I have you will know that he chooses few friends. 


THE CRAB 43 

Come with him and see us some evening. Don’t be 
formal.” 

Frazier remarked that he did not have much time 
to meet people except in a business way. 

“Oh, but you must; it’s good business policy. I 
won’t promise that you’ll like those you meet. We 
are rather a peculiar community — something like 
hard shell crabs, all claws and shell on first acquaint- 
ance, but when the shell is off — well, it depends even 
then on the palate,” Miss Warren concluded. 

“How did you like her?” asked Donald, when 
Frazier returned. 

“Well, to tell the truth she is rightly named. I 
never could understand before why those old Greeks 
and Trojans fought for ten years over another 
Helen, but I think I have a glimmering now. She’s 
pretty and witty and charming, but more than that, 
you feel she’s genuine.” 

“She’s true blue,” said Don, slowly. 

“By the way,” added Frazier, “I must have Mrs. 
Quincy’s speech cut out. It is too bad it can’t be 
printed, after all her efforts, but it would somewhat 
amuse the chapter to have it appear in print when 
she didn’t make it and wasn’t elected.” 


4 


x 


CHAPTER V 

Every boor can find fault; it would baffle him to do better. — 
German Proverb. 

The political campaign was becoming warm. 
Henry Furman was nominated for mayor by the 
Republicans, according to the program. There was 
no opposition to the ticket that had been so care- 
fully prepared. The Review gave a short sketch of 
the candidates, pointing out that the mayoralty 
nominee was a rising young business man who had 
made his own way in the world and had the con- 
fidence of the community and especially of the wage 
workers. But this seemed to arouse the indigna- 
tion of the labor unions. They scoffed at the idea 
that Furman in any way deserved their confidence 
or support. A day or two after the article was 
printed, Frazier was waited upon by a delegation 
from some of the unions who brought with them 
a communication which they asked to have printed 
in the Review. 

“You are a comparative stranger in the city,” said 
the spokesman, “otherwise you would not have 
stated what you did about Furman. He is the tool 
of James Ashbell, the mill-owner, who hates labor 
45 


46 


WHAVS HE TO ME? 


organizations as much as the devil hates holy water, 
and who has practically the whole city under his 
thumb. Furman was put up as a candidate by the 
capitalistic clique, which believes it can fool us, but it 
will find its mistake. Of course if the Review wants 
to support the candidate, we have nothing more to 
say. But as an independent newspaper we were in 
hopes it would give us a fair show, so we ask you 
to print this communication over our own signa- 
tures. We expect no favors from the other paper, 
but we had begun to read the Review and like it be- 
cause it seemed to be fair. We patronize those 
who patronize us and support newspapers which 
support us.” 

Frazier glanced at the communication hastily. He 
saw that it was scathing and bitter. It denounced 
Furman, charging him with having secretly given 
valuable information to the employers at the mill in 
the case of a threatened strike the year before, and 
closed by practically accusing him of being a paid 
emissary of Ashbell, from whom he had derived all 
his worldly success. Frazier regretted to print it, 
because it would rouse the ire of the man who held 
the mortgage on his plant, but hesitated to refuse for 
he believed it was in the main true and because of 
the influence the workingmen whom his visitors rep- 
resented. Finally the interview ended with his 
promise that the communication signed by those who 


THE INFLAMING 


47 

wrote it, should appear in the next issue of the 
Review. 

“Not very satisfying — this playing good Lord, 
good Devil,” said Frazier to Donald, when his visi- 
tors had gone and he had explained the situation. 
“If I had refused to print it, I should have had the 
entire labor organizations of the city down on the 
Review and now that I have promised to do so, 1 
know I shall anger Ashbell, Piggott and the others, 
to whom opposition is as inflaming as a red rag to a 
bull.” 

“Well, of the two evils,” said Donald, “I should 
judge you have chosen the least. In your present 
situation, you are not able to do exactly as you would 
nor as you should, but you can come as near to it 
as conditions will allow.” 

The communication appeared in the Review next 
evening and it made a sensation. The paper had 
not been out on the street long before Editor Frazier 
received a call from Mr. Piggott. 

“Now, Mr. Frazier,” said he nervously, as soon 
as he was seated, “I don’t want to run your paper for 
you, or dictate its policy, but it seems to me you 
made a great mistake in allowing that attack on our 
candidate for mayor to appear in the Review to- 
night. Mr. Furman has lived right here in the city 
all his life and is one of our best citizens. He is 
more popular than you imagine. He will draw a 


48 WHATS HE TO ME? 

big Irish and Catholic vote on account of his dona- 
tion to their new church and his membership in the 
Foresters, and the Baptist church people will vote 
for him almost as a unit. He will surely be elected 
no matter whom they run against him, but this is 
not the kind of treatment the Republican party 
should get from a paper like the Review that has 
the reputation of being fair and honest. I come 
directly from Mr. Ashbell, who is very much dis- 
turbed over it. What do you get out of these 
labor agitators, anyway? Nothing except a few 
readers, and some of them can’t even read. The 
people who support your paper are the advertisers — 
the business men of this city — and the better element. 
You know your own business, Mr. Frazier, I sup- 
pose, but I was surprised you would allow a scurril- 
ous piece like that to go in your paper. It makes 
me wish I’d refused to assist you when you were in 
trouble. Rather ungrateful, it looks to me.” 

“But, Mr. Piggott, I could hardly refuse to pub- 
lish a communication over the signature of three 
well known men. The Review neither endorses nor 
condemns it. The men who wrote it are respon- 
sible for it.” 

“Responsible to whom and for what? There is 
no responsibility in labor unions nor in the individ- 
uals who belong to them. They are trouble-breed- 
ers and calamity-howlers. There is a covert sneer 


THE WARNING 


49 


at Mr. Ashbell — one of our best citizens — in the 
article. Didn’t he give us $10,000 for our public 
library? And if vve use him right, he’ll give us a 
building for our Y. M. C. A. Why, if any misfor- 
tune should happen to him, the grass would be grow- 
ing in the streets in six months. 

“It’s a great mistake to attack such a man. But 
I have said more than I meant to. You know I 
haven’t asked you to do anything for me as a can- 
didate for the state senate, although I was very much 
pleased at the article In the Review the other day. 
I helped you out when no one else would, and seems 
to me you needn’t antagonize our side. But you 
know your own business and may be able to ride two 
horses at once though it’s likely to get you into trou- 
ble. This is all I wish to say. Good night.” 

When Piggott had gone Frazier was In anything 
but an enviable frame of mind. He saw trouble 
ahead and a whole lot of it. He tried to do a little 
writing, but the thought that he was really trying to 
ride two horses at once, as Piggott had said, un- 
fitted him for work and he soon left the office for the 
night. 

The labor organizations had their caucus for the 
nomination of a mayor the following evening and 
their choice resulted In selecting Gustavus Rolka, a 
mill worker. After the nomination he was called 
upon for a speech, and rising in the midst of that 


50 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


gathering of men whose hands were knotted with 
toil and whose faces were seamed with privation and 
care, he made an address which electrified them. 

Rolka had lived in the city but a few years and 
was practically unknown to most of its business men. 
He was a student and a dreamer, a fanatic and a 
radical. He had the logic of Krapotkin and Karl 
Marx, of Henry George and Eugene Debs, of Tols- 
toy and Rousseau, at his fingers’ ends. He was 
terribly in earnest. As he stood in the hall, his tall 
gaunt form towering above his fellows, he seemed 
like one entranced, as if he were the mouthpiece of 
all the suffering and sorrow and wrong and oppres- 
sion of the toilers of the whole world. 

He spoke of the workers in the mill, of the little 
ones who were slaving long hours and who were de- 
nied the God-given necessity of fresh air and sun- 
shine, of the narrowing opportunities of the laboring 
man, of his own unfitness for the office and his doubt 
that he should be nominated and if so that he would 
be elected. But he said he had consecrated himself 
to the betterment of his fellow men, and, God giving 
him strength, he would not falter, so long as he 
lived, in the task he had set out to accomplish. 

This speech was reported rather fully in the 
papers the next day, and, much to the surprise of 
many, the Democrats endorsed him as their candi- 
date the evening following. Of course there were 


THE EXPERIMENT 


5 


many in the party who opposed him. But having 
made straight party nominations in the past and suf- 
fered overwhelming defeat, the action was taken 
more as an experiment than anything else. 

Piggott called upon Frazier soon after and in- 
formed him that Furman was as good as elected 
already; that he would sweep the city, that the com- 
munity was too intelligent and too American to elect 
a socialist, or worse, an anarchist, as its chief mag- 
istrate. He said it was a great reflection upon the 
city that such a man as Rolka should even be nomi- 
nated, but the result would show what a slender hold 
such incendiary principles had upon the people. 


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CHAPTER VI 


Courage, sir; 

That makes a man or woman look their goodliest. 

— Tennyson. 

A carriage drew up before the Review office. 
Horse and driver were well groomed, jaunty, and 
up-to-date, each bubbling over with animal spirits 
and each a delight to the eye. The driver was 
Helen Warren. Both Frazier and Donald went to 
the curb to greet her. 

“I am going to Mayville this morning,” she ex- 
plained, ‘‘and I want to borrow Mr. Donald. May 
I, Mr. Frazier? I can’t possibly go alone and I am 
on a very important mission. My brother Jim has 
a birthday to-morrow and I want to give him a pres- 
ent he will relish. Jake Murphy has some fine bull 
terrier pups, they say, and I want one for Jim. 
He’s scorned every present I’ve given him for a 
year, and if I should make a mistake in giving him 
a dog that hadn’t all the good points of his class. 
I’d never hear the last of it. Mr. Donald goes 
clear to New York every year to the dog show and 
is considered our local authority.” 

Frazier laughed. “Certainly Don must go. 
Wish I could go along, too — not in the capacity of 
53 


54 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


expert, but merely for the pleasure. That’s a fine 
animal you have there, Miss Warren.” 

“There, you’ve done it when you say that; I’m 
your friend forever. I don’t know much about 
dogs, but I do know a good horse. I picked Betsy 
out myself and she cost me a good sum, too. It 
made a big hole in Grandmother Huntington’s leg- 
acy. The dear old soul would have left me out of 
the list of heirs had she known where some of her 
money was to go. Some day when you are not too 
busy you shall go and hold the reins yourself.” 

“That is a great favor,” said Frazier. 

“Indeed it is. Not one of my brothers dares 
touch Betsy. I think it spoils a horse to have too 
many handle her. She and I are not thoroughly ac- 
quainted yet, but I am beginning to understand her. 
She would just delight in kicking over the traces, just 
like me, if it wasn’t such awfully bad form. Well, 
here’s Gordon. Good day, Mr. Frazier.” 

Helen was in particularly good spirits as they 
drove off, and she rattled on from one subject to an- 
other, Gordon listening with a smile. Finally she 
said: 

“I don’t wonder you like Mr. Frazier, Gordon. 
He seems to be a fine fellow. But he looks wor- 
ried. You ought to get him away from the office 
more. He will do better work for a bit of recrea- 
tion.” 


THE PURCHASE 


55 


“Frazier’s busy about sixteen hours out of the 
twenty-four and has little time for social matters or 
pleasure. You know he is head over heels in debt 
and his sole idea is to get out of it.” 

“Well, no matter for that; he ought to get out 
among people more. I shall invite him specially and 
in such a way that there will be no favors to re- 
turn.” 

The road made an abrupt turn to the right and 
soon they stopped at a little house set back from 
the road. 

“Is Jake home?” asked Donald, as a pleasant 
faced woman came to the door. 

“He is; only gone up to the wood lot. I’ll send 
one of the childer for him.” 

Helen and Donald got out and tied Betsy to the 
fence. 

“We came to look at the pups we heard he had,” 
said Donald. 

“They’re out to the barn. Here, Mike, you 
show ’em the way,” said Mrs. Murphy, as she eyed 
Helen closely, taking in all the details of her natty 
tailor-made gown. 

Mike put the puppies on the barn floor, much to 
the distress of their mother, who growled and show- 
ed her sharp white teeth. 

Helen picked up one of the squirming balls of 
velvet. 


56 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“I’ll take this one.” 

“This is the best of the lot,” said Donald. “See 
how much stronger he is on his feet. His color, too, 
is better. I know Jim would prefer him. He 
favors his father and he is one of the best dogs in 
the county. Better choose this one.” 

Just then Jake came in. 

“Hello, Mr. Donald; hear you want one of my 
pups. You’ve picked out one? Well, you took the 
prize.” 

“How much?” asked Donald. 

“Have to ask you $20, though I’d make any one 
but you pay $25. He’s a son of ‘Fighting Dick,’ 
and you know there isn’t a better bred dog than him 
in this part of the State.” 

Helen gave Donald a nudge and dropped a purse 
in his coat pocket. Taking it out a few minutes 
later, he counted the money. “Is he old enough to 
leave his mother?” he asked. 

“Yes, indeed; he will be all right.” 

So Donald held the pup while Helen, chatting 
briskly, turned Betsy’s head in the direction of home. 
All went merrily until, about two miles from town, 
a sudden gust of wind blew a large piece of white 
paper in front of Betsy. She jumped quickly to one 
side, the carriage careened and came near overturn- 
ing. The movement was so sudden that Miss War- 



“ WHOA, BETSY 1 ” 



















THE RUNAWAY 


57 


ren dropped the reins and both occupants barely es- 
caped being thrown into the gutter. 

Betsy started on a wild run. For an instant Miss 
Warren’s unusual pluck, not often found in women, 
left her. They were at the mercy of brute fear and 
brute strength, with no possible way to control them. 
Fortunately, it was a level stretch of road, and 
Donald’s self-possession did not leave him for a 
moment. Handicapped as he was physically, he 
arose and grasped the dashboard, leaned far over, 
placed one foot upon the thills, his hand upon the 
animal’s rump, and catching hold of the harness 
made one leap and was upon Betsy’s back. Then he 
reached forward and grasping the reins, gave one 
mighty pull, almost throwing the animal back upon 
her haunches. 

“Whoa, Betsy!’’ said he. “What are you fright- 
ened at? There is nothing going to hurt you.” And 
reaching over, he patted her on the side of the neck. 

A few seconds more and Donald, whose waiting 
ears caught the sound of the whistle of the express 
train just below the crossing, was on his feet beside 
Betsy, patting her head and talking to her soothingly 
as the long train whizzed by. But the danger over, 
limp and white, he dropped to the ground, and 
Helen, realizing that he had remembered the ex- 
press all the time he was making his heroic effort to 
stop the maddened animal, and conscious of the 


58 WHATS HE TO ME? 

horrible fate they had barely escaped, burst into 
tears. 

“Oh, Gordon, you saved my worthless, reckless 
life and I nearly murdered you. It was such a brave 
thing to do. How could you have thought of it so 
quickly?’’ 

“It was all there was left to do. But come, 
Betsy will get cold here. We must go on home.’’ 

“I am so unnerved that I can’t touch the reins. 
Betsy would know I was afraid and I’d lose all con- 
trol of her forever.” 

“I’ll drive, then, and Miss Betsy will know that I 
am not afraid of her.” 

So Helen submitted to being helped into the 
buggy, while Donald followed, gathering up the 
reins and chirruping to Betsy, who started off home 
a bit nervously. 

Helen was so unnaturally quiet that several times 
Gordon turned to her anxiously to ask if she were 
all right. She always smiled back reassuringly, but 
when he was not looking she watched him curiously. 
As long as she had known him, she had always tried 
to act in such a way that he would feel less sensi- 
tively his physical shortcomings — with womanly tact 
giving up active sports when he was near and enter- 
taining the other young people in games in which he 
could participate. But here he was in the role of a 
hero — a hero with quick wit,, strong arm and steady 


THE HUMOR 


59 

nerve — and she was slowly trying to readjust Donald 
in her mind with these added characteristics. 

It was not until they were nearly home that the 
pup, which had been quietly sleeping on the seat dur- 
ing all the excitement, now gave vent to the funniest 
of barks, which made them both laugh. 

“I hope this isn’t a sample of the kind of a watch 
dog he is going to be,” laughingly remarked Helen. 
“If it is, he’ll wait in a comfortable place until the 
burglars have walked off with the silver and then 
he’ll appear on the scene at the same time with the 
police.” 














CHAPTER VII 


A heart resembles the ocean; has storms, and ebb, and flow; 

And many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below. 

— Heine. 

Frazier was disturbed. He was conscious of 
doing scant justice to the Review editorial leaders. 
Instead of the serious question of sewage disposal 
which must be considered soon by the growing city, 
and the position of the city council in regard to 
granting a franchise for the new street railway, he 
found himself meditating upon a pair of violet eyes. 
They looked up at him from the sheet over which 
his pencil was moving; they flashed upon him from 
the corners of his den when he was trying to woo 
ideas and inspiration. For the first time in his life 
Frazier was thinking seriously of a woman. Here- 
tofore the sex had been somewhat apart from his 
life. Until this time he would have laughed at the 
idea of being in love, but from the day he first met 
Helen Warren, he realized that there was something 
lacking in his life which engrossing work could not 
supply. 

He had, moreover, in spite of all resolutions to 
the contrary, become a rather frequent visitor at the 
Warren home. Sometimes he stopped at the gate 

6l 


62 


WHAVS HE TO ME? 


when passing and indulged in a few moments’ chat 
with Helen. In the evening he made the fourth at 
a game of whist; sometimes at the piano they all 
sang, Don’s rich baritone coming out stronger than 
all the others. 

Mrs. Warren encouraged Frazier’s visits and saw 
to it that there was always an informal supper dur- 
ing the evening, something out of the ordinary that 
he could not get at his hotel. There was a rarebit 
that Frazier stirred himself, or the cake he fancied 
with a glass of cider or claret. For Mrs. Warren 
belonged to the old school. In spite of the protests 
of her friends who were temperance workers, she 
kept her sideboard as well stocked as in the days 
when her husband lived and presided over all home 
hospitalities. 

It had been tacitly understood that Betsy’s esca- 
pade should be kept a secret. It was Helen’s first 
experience with a runaway and her first knowledge 
of the nature of fear. Being the best horsewoman 
for many miles around, she had ridden every horse 
or colt in the stable from the time she was old 
enough to cling to a horse’s mane. Her father 
used to say that a girl who had a horse of her own 
would have her hands full and no time for gossip 
or other feminine foibles. But it was a great trial 
to gentle, conventional Mrs. Warren to have a 
“horsey’’ daughter. At a recent wedding at which 


THE UNCONVENTIONAL 63 

Helen in the most correct of chiffons had officiated 
as maid of honor, Mrs. Warren had confessed to 
the mother of the bride: 

“I should be the happiest woman in the world if 
I could look forward to an occasion like this for 
Helen. She has had scores of beaux from the time 
she put on long skirts, but she flouts them all. If 
she ever does marry, I fear it will be a horse dealer 
or a horse doctor. Even then I fear she would 
never consent to a conventional wedding, but would 
want to prance up the aisle in habit and hat, driving 
her bridesmaids in similar costume, with her ushers, 
for all I know, in red hunting coats riding hobby 
horses on the side.” 

And her friend had laughed sympathetically, for 
every one knew Helen’s tastes and habits. 

But here at last was Frazier, a man of education 
and breeding, who was bound to make a place for 
himself in the world. Helen seemed to like him, 
too. He had unexpected opinions, and the uncon- 
scious little coquettish ways she practiced on the 
men she had known since she was in a pinafore had 
apparently no effect on him. 

One evening, when Frazier called in his informal 
way, Donald and a stranger were there before him. 
Helen introduced the visitor as Miss Colton, with 
the remark: 


64 


IT HAT’S HE TO MEf 


“Next to Betsy, I love Vera,” giving her friend 
an affectionate clasp of the waist. 

“Helen knows I know it or she would not confess 
it,” laughed Miss Colton. “She knows the penalty 
of the absurd name of Vera my father gave me. It 
was not because he was a sentimental novel-reader, 
as would seem, but, as he once told me solemnly, he 
did it to keep before me the fact that the only thing 
worth while in the world is truth. He himself was 
a martyr to truth, for he died as the result of some 
experiments with bacilli.” 

Miss Colton was a direct contrast to her friend. 
Older by nearly ten years, she was swarthy where 
Helen was fair. Her face was sad in repose, but 
the mouth, that telltale feature of the individual, had 
a sensitive and pathetic droop in spite of the firm- 
ness of character denoted by the outline. But Helen 
was joy and youth personified. That was the charm 
she held for so many. 

Frazier did not learn the history of Vera Colton 
for some time and then from an unexpected source. 
It was Mrs. Royal Quincy who gave him her history, 
at least the popular version of it. 

“Vera Colton? Well, I should say I do know 
her. The most meddling person in town. Lives 
next to me in that big barn of a house. When 
Seth Miller died we all supposed the church and the 
hospital would get all he had, but lo and behold, he 


THE ENIGMA 


6 $ 


left all his estate, which was valuable and unencum- 
bered, to this niece. Most women of her age would 
at least have furnished up the house and occasionally 
entertained society, but she did nothing of the sort.” 

“I understand she is very benevolent.” 

“Not at all. She says all charity is immoral and 
wherever justice prevails there is no need of helping 
the poor.” 

“But still she gives to the needy, I hear.” 

“Well, I suppose so. She hobnobs with people 
like the Rolkas,” said Mrs. Quincy. “Society would 
ignore her altogether but for the hope that some day 
we can get her interested in some of our projects.” 

“Is she interested in church matters?” 

“Yes and no. She belongs to no church and goes 
one Sunday to hear mass at the Catholic church and 
perh ps the next to hear Parson Jones at the Metho- 
dist. She decorates the altar of one of the churches 
every Sunday, for she has added a magnificent con- 
servatory to the old house, the only improvement 
since she took possession. It is full of beautiful 
things — palms, orchids and the finest of plants. She 
invites the school children and the factory girls to 
go there as often as they like and she sends them 
home with bouquets which few of them appreciate.” 

“Surely that is good of her.” 

“Yes,” admitted Mrs. Quincy, “but she never 
gives her neighbors on Elm street any, or at least 


66 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


very seldom. At the foot of her garden is another 
greenhouse and the finest fruit goes to her ne’er-do- 
wells on Meadow street, who I hope value it, but I 
much doubt it.” 

The subject of this conversation was that very 
evening at the Rolka home holding the youngest in 
her lap. Mrs. Rolka, in the neatest of gingham 
gowns, was ironing meantime, and much distressed 
at the nomination of her husband for mayor. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Rolka. If the peo- 
ple didn’t want him they would not have nominated 
him. I know your husband has many friends and 
when you have seen as much of the world as I 
have,” said Miss Colton smiling, “you will find that 
it is bad policy to worry. The only way to get the 
most out of life is to think of ourselves as a third 
person, and concern ourselves no more about that 
third person than we do any other. Every experi- 
ence, however bitter, brings its compensating joy. 
No matter what our own burdens and sufferings, 
some neighbor is just as badly afflicted.” 

“But if he should be elected, how can I fill the 
place of a mayor’s wife?” 

“Oh, is that what is worrying you?” laughed Miss 
Colton. “Don’t you bother about that. If your 
husband is elected, you shall move into my house on 
Elm street and stay there as long as he holds the 


THE PROMISE 67 

office. I’ll give you a reception and even Mrs. 
Royal Quincy shall be presented to you.” 

And Mrs. Rolka laughed in spite of herself, for 
she knew that whatever Miss Colton made up her 
mind to do, she would carry out in spite of all op- 
position. 



I 


CHAPTER VIII 


The ruling passion, be it what it will, 

The ruling passion conquers reason still. 

— Pope. 

Predictions were being made that Furman would 
be elected mayor by twice the votes received by 
Rolka. Money was being spent freely in the cam- 
paign and each side seemed to be aroused to the high- 
est earnestness as the election drew near. The cam- 
paign began upon a plane of dignity and considera- 
tion for personal feelings; but as is sometimes the 
case, extremes always begetting extremes, it gradu- 
ally developed into hatred and personalities. 

There was a large foreign element among the 
voters of the city, and many of them had but re- 
cently become naturalized. Most of them worked 
in the great cotton mill, and they were reckless of 
speech and in some cases of acts. Possibly there 
was some excuse for it with their long hours and 
small pay and their dull understanding, but it was 
not a pleasing spectacle and caused some apprehen- 
sion of trouble before the campaign was over. 

Yet the issues were not so vital. The most im- 
portant were whether union labor should be em- 
ployed on city contracts and whether the commis- 

69 


70 


fVHATS HE TO ME? 


sioner of public works, who, it was claimed, was a 
secret partner of Furman as a contractor and 
builder, should be reappointed by the incoming 
mayor. To these issues, however, was gradually 
drawn much discussion of the general relations of 
capital and labor and other political topics which 
would not really be affected by the result. 

There were complaints of the lukewarmness of 
the Review. Frazier had refrained from taking a 
partisan position, but had insisted that the meetings 
of each side be reported impartially, merely making 
editorial comments in explanation of the issues, with- 
out attempting to influence the Review readers one 
way or the other. He had, however, over their own 
signatures, printed two or three communications 
from the labor leaders which reflected strongly upon 
both Furman and Piggott, the latter the candidate 
for senator in the State election, and he had opened 
the columns of the Review as freely to the other 
side. He was surprised, however, one morning to 
receive the following letter : 

Mr. Harold Frazier, 

City. 

Dear Sir: 

When I loaned you the money to help out the Review, I did so 
with the understanding that you would do nothing to oppose the 
principles that the party to which I belong upholds and upon which 
the future prosperity of the city, if not the entire country, depends. 
It seems to me that you have broken your faith with us, and as I 
shall need considerable ready money within the next week, I am 
obliged to ask you to take up the mortgage at your earliest con- 


THE MORTGAGE 


71 

venience and not later than the latter part of next week, or I shall 
proceed to foreclose. 

Yours truly, 

Percy Piggott. 

Frazier was not conscious of having taken an un- 
fair position in local politics, but he was partly pre- 
pared for the letter. He had noticed for several 
days that Piggott and some of the party leaders had 
treated him rather coolly, and possibly to this as 
much as anything else was due his own indifference, 
for he really intended to keep his implied agree- 
ment, although not to the extent of making the Re- 
view a partisan paper. He took the letter to 
Donald. 

“Read it,” he said. 

“Well, that’s cool,” was Donald’s comment. “So 
he wants his money as quickly as this — not very long 
after he made that loan. I wish I myself had it. 
Pd hobble over there and take up that mortgage in 
five minutes, and then come back and tell you to 
write exactly as you feel. Of course it wouldn’t 
elect poor Rolka or defeat Piggott, and I don’t know 
that one would be more desirable than the other. 
But nothing can be more unpleasant for a man in 
your position than to be muzzled.” 

At a meeting of the Republican campaign com- 
mittee the next night Frazier was openly charged 
with having abandoned the position he had at first 
assumed and of selling out to the enemy. It was 


72 


PFHATS HE TO ME? 


stated that he was two-faced and a “trimmer.” Mr. 
Piggott, who was present, was severely plain in his 
denunciation of the Review. 

“Frazier seems to have gone over to the socialistic 
and lawless agitators,” he said, “and we are getting 
absolutely no help from that sheet. I know he had 
a private conference with Rolka the other night, and, 
as he is about the only man in the crowd who knows 
enough to make up that story about my having de- 
feated a bill when I was in the legislature for shorter 
hours of work in factories,! do not hesitate to attrib- 
ute that lying circular to him. But he is shrewd 
and cunning. He keeps his paper pretty well on the 
fence. To my mind he might as well come out and 
stand up for the other side where he belongs.” 

Piggott said much more of a personal nature re- 
flecting upon Frazier, but possibly it might be ex- 
cused because of his having imbibed rather freely 
before coming into the meeting, although this was 
scarcely noticeable, for Mr. Piggott never got in- 
toxicated. He only drank enough, and that in his 
own home, to make his tongue unruly on occasions. 

Unfortunately, Paul Downs, city editor of the 
Review, was present and overheard much of what 
had been said. He was naturally indignant and the 
next day he remarked to Frazier: 

“What has caused Percy Piggott to take such a 
sudden dislike to you? He attacked you outrage- 


THE MEETING 


73 

ously at the campaign committee meeting last night.” 

‘‘He did, did he?” was the reply. ‘‘Well, 1 sup- 
pose it is because I have not flattered and smeared 
him with adulation in every issue of the Review. It 
is because I have not bowed down to the czar of this 
city, James Ashbell, whose tool Piggott is and al- 
ways has been. Why, he imagines he owns me just 
because he holds a mortgage of $10,000 on the Re- 
view plant. But what did he say?” 

‘‘Why, he said that the Review had gone over to 
the socialistic crowd and intimated that you belonged 
among them. I was astounded that he should have 
come out in that way, so publicly, but I fancy it was 
partially caused by too much firewater.” 

Frazier was furious. 

‘‘Very well,” said he, ‘‘Piggott can have no more 
contempt for me than I have for him. So he isn’t 
satisfied to try to ruin me financially ; he wants to ruin 
my character. I could very easily get even with him 
in the columns of the Review, but I don’t want to 
take him or any other man at a disadvantage or un- 
fairly. I shall call him to account in another way.” 

The opportunity came sooner than Frazier ex- 
pected. That very night the two chanced to meet in 
the corridor of the City Hotel. Piggott was in- 
clined to pass on with merely a nod, but Frazier 
stopped him. 

“I want to speak to you a moment,” he said. 


14 - 


WHAVS HE TO MEf 


“Possibly we would better go up stairs into Parlor 
B where we can be alone.” 

“All right,” said Piggott, in a voice that betok- 
ened he was looking for trouble and was prepared 
for it. They ascended by the elevator, passed into 
one of the small private parlors and closed the door. 

“What did you mean the other night,” said 
Frazier, “by saying that I had sold out and gone 
over to the lawless crowd? What did you mean by 
saying that I belonged to a lawless crowd?” 

“I meant just what I said, Harold Fraziej. I 
know you have been seen hobnobbing with Rolka, 
and if he isn’t lawless and an anarchist, I don’t know 
who is. I did you quite a favor not long ago and 
how have you paid me for it? Fll admit you came 
out at first in a decent sort of a way, but as soon as 
you had got the money in your hand, you cooled off 
mightily, and for the last ten days there has not been 
a word in the Review in favor of the principles rep- 
resented by Furman or myself. We are candidates 
for office and think we ought to get some kind of 
support. I haven’t said anything to your back that 
I will not throw right into your face.” 

Frazier was burning with anger. 

“You do not deny it then,” he said. “You are 
not only trying to ruin me financially, but you charge 
me with duplicity and slur my good name, which is 
far dearer to me than money. You deserve to be 





“i’ll have that mortgage forclosed tomorrow!” 



/ 



THE FIGHT 


75 


shown up as you are, but I am not going to take 
advantage of you. I have never published anything 
yet in the Review for the purpose of punishing my 
enemies or rewarding my friends, and I never will. 
I merely wanted to tell you quietly, with nobody 
around to cause a scandal and make talk, that you 
are a slanderer, and to put it stronger yet, a liar, 
when you say I belong to a lawless crowd.” 

Piggott was beside himself with rage. He had 
not been sitting down, and before Frazier could de- 
fend himself, he struck him a violent blow with his 
open hand across his face. Frazier sprang from his 
chair, his clenched fist shot out, and in a moment 
Piggott was sprawling on the carpet. Before he 
could rise, Frazier said to him: 

“This is shameful, but remember you struck the 
first blow, and if this quarrel is continued, the pub- 
licity will be quite as bad for you as it is for me. If 
you dare to come near me, you do it at your peril. 
You have done your worst; continue to do it.” 

With that Frazier picked up his hat and quickly 
left the room and before Piggott had scarcely risen 
from the floor. 

He got up, looked in the mirror to see that there 
were no marks on his face from the effect of the 
blow, seated himself in a chair to regain his com- 
posure, and then burst out with: 

“I’ll take steps to have that mortgage foreclosed 


76 


fVHATS HE TO MEf 


to-morrow. He has got to have ten days’ notice, 
but I will have him walking out of town before he is 
much older. I don’t believe I’d better say anything 
about this for it wouldn’t do any good just at this 
campaign time. ’Taint likely that damned editor 
will say anything about it, either. It would hurt 
him more than it would me.” 


CHAPTER IX 


The heart always sees before the head can see. — Carlyle. 

Frazier left the hotel feeling humiliated that he 
had indulged in a personal encounter — a brawl — but 
he was glad of the opportunity to let Piggott know 
just what he thought of him and to punish him for 
his slanders. He wandered into the public library 
to get some information concerning a subject which 
he wished to treat in the Review the next day. It 
was an imposing roomy building, quiet and restful, 
with little alcoves where the reader could sit for 
hours unmolested. He walked up the stairway and 
was looking over some works in the reference room, 
when suddenly he became aware that a lady was 
present, but he did not look up, so intent was he on 
his work, and so serious were his thoughts on the 
developments of the past few days. He finally 
raised his eyes, and lo, his companion was Miss 
Colton. 

“Good evening,” he said gravely. 

“Good evening, Mr. Frazier. I have wanted to 
see you and possibly this may be as good a place 
as any, if you have time for a little talk which I 
hope you will not think is intrusive. I read the 
77 


fVHATS HE TO MEf 


78 

Review regularly and fancy I can see in it evidence 
of heart work as well as head work. But I have 
noticed during the past three or four weeks that you 
have hardly given Gustavus Rolka the consideration 
he deserves concerning the position and responsi- 
bility that have come upon him rather than have been 
sought by him.” 

“Why, Miss Colton, it is rather singular, but I 
have been criticized severely by the friends of the 
other candidate on the ground that I have given 
Rolka too much attention and used him too well. 
They say he is a disturber and a mischief-maker, 
and some have gone so far as to call him an anar- 
chist — of course, ignorantly, if not maliciously. 
Now you charge me with doing him an injustice. 
This is another proof of how difficult it is to run a 
newspaper on independent lines or to succeed in 
doing justice to both sides.” 

“Yes, I know that. I have had enough personal 
experience myself in the way of being misunderstood 
not to appreciate your position.” 

“The only person I can think of more oppressed 
by the opinion of others than an editor of a daily 
in a small city,” said Frazier, “is the underpaid min- 
ister of a struggling flock, entirely dependent for 
the necessaries of life upon a few members of his 
congregation.” 

“True,” returned Miss Colton, “but after all, a 


THE INTIMATION 


79 


man who writes from his heart, who is actuated by 
principle, who earnestly wishes to do right, must 
gain influence and power, and in the course of time, 
success.” 

“Yes, indeed; if his creditors do not sell him out 
in the meantime. But what are the things I have 
not done that I ought to have done, or the things 
that I have done that I should not have done?” 

“I can not put my finger on a sentence,” said 
Miss Colton, “but the fact remains that there seems 
to be a lack of feeling in your editorials that was not 
noticeable some time ago.” 

“But I cannot consistently support Rolka. I have 
no doubt he is honest, capable and worthy, but his 
views are too advanced for a conservative city like 
this. I understand he is a friend of yours.” 

“Yes, I have known him and his family for some 
time. I do not think myself that he would make 
an ideal mayor, but with a choice between him and 
Furman, I should not hesitate a moment. At any 
rate, Rolka is, as you say, honest, and such men have 
always been scarce. He is certainly the idol of the 
mill workers.” 

“How do you know, pray?” 

“Why, I go among them to find out. They know 
Rolka is one of them, that he knows the burden of 
poverty, the sting of debt, the nameless horror of 
growing old and being thrown aside for a younger 


8o 


WHAT'S HE TO ME? 


worker, with no provision for old age and that he 
feels for and with them.” 

‘‘But, Miss Colton, they make a confidant of you 
more than of me.” 

‘‘Yes; my sympathies are really with them. They 
feel I understand, and I do. But they do not know 
— and Mr. Frazier you are the first person who did 
not know me in my former manner of living to 
whom I have spoken of it — that I too have known 
what it is to be poor, not to know where the next 
meal was coming from, to dread to go to the door 
lest a creditor more insolent than the rest should 
be there. And this at a time when I was young 
and full of longing for all the things that make life 
worth living to girls. Had I received my uncle’s 
fortune then, I would have flung money wide with 
a lavish hand, and gratified my personal wishes to 
the exclusion of all others. But it came too late. 
Now when I spend money on myself, I think of 
other girls suffering as I suffered, and I can’t enjoy 
personal and trivial pleasures. It is only when I 
am helping others who would have no other help 
but for me that I am happy. But this is not much 
to my credit,” she added smiling, “for it is only a 
form of selfishness.” 

“Well, at any rate,” he answered, smiling in turn, 
“it is a very good kind of selfishness. You and 
Donald seem to have a monopoly of the brand. 


THE WOUNDS 


8i 


But to my mind it makes little difference what we 
call it, if it makes the world better.” 

Miss Colton left the library and Frazier turned 
to his books. But he could not work. Why is it, 
he thought, that we go through life building up 
walls around us, walls of pride and reserve, often, 
it is true, to keep out the shafts that wound and kill, 
but we forget that those very walls shut out the 
sunshine of human understanding and the blessed 
breezes of good will and brotherly love. His 
thoughts grew intolerable as he reflected upon the 
incidents of the past few days, the coming mortgage 
foreclosure, the encounter with Piggott, and lastly 
the grave uncertainty of getting the money and re- 
taining the Review. 

“But I need not cross the bridge until I come to 
it,” he muttered, as he tried to think of other things. 
He finally put down the book with a bang and went 
out into the cool, clear starlight night. He could 
not bear the thought of his small, cheerless room at 
the hotel. 

“No wonder men who live alone in hotels are 
driven to drink,” he mused, “and no wonder domes- 
tic women have faithful husbands, but not because 
of their own virtues so much as their power to sup- 
ply creature comforts.” He looked at his watch. 
It was early. He would go to the Warrens. They 


82 WHATS HE TO MEf 

were a cheerful household with apparently no wor- 
ries in life. 

Helen came forward in her cordial way. 

“Just in time, Mr. Frazier. Jim is putting 
Trump through his paces. I believe you have not 
been introduced to Trump. He has been kept in 
the stable most of the time and has only recently 
been admitted to polite society.” 

Frazier soon forgot his worries in the comical 
antics of the bullterrier, who balanced a piece of 
cake on his nose, then caught it in his jaws with a 
snap. He begged, he danced, he said his prayers. 
He was asked if he would sing for the company and 
after three staccato barks, he hopped on a chair 
which Jim placed beside Helen at the piano. She 
played a doleful hymn, whereupon Trump gave vent 
to the funniest combination of sharp barks, yelps 
and crescendo howls that sent them all off into peals 
of laughter. Frazier, who heard it for the first 
time, laughed until the tears came into his eyes. 

Frazier had put the troubles of the Review en- 
tirely out of his mind by the time he reached his 
room, but he could not sleep. Helen was before 
him like a wraith. She affected clinging house 
gowns that always seemed to match her striking 
beauty and to suit her graceful figure, and tonight 
she had seemed unusually bewitching. But it was 
her originality of speech and action that most ap- 


THE ADORABLE 


83 


pealed to Frazier. She was unlike any woman he 
had ever met. She reminded him of a beautiful 
fire opal — brilliant, vivid, precious — but never seen 
twice in the same light. But he remembered that 
the flames of light upon the opal are caused by 
fissures and flaws in the body of the gem. That was 
Helen. Her very imperfections made her adorable. 
If she had any especially lofty ideals, she did not 
thrust them forward. She was simply a jolly com- 
rade and apparently content to be merely charming. 

“It is a pity that among so many women the 
charm of naturalness is a lost art,” said Frazier to 
himself, as he dropped off to sleep. 





















CHAPTER X 

Marry and grow tame. — S panish Proverb. 

Helen Warren had just settled herself cosily to 
do a bit of reading. Not that she was a great 
reader or that she often settled herself down to 
anything. She was here, there, and everywhere; 
full of life and animal spirits, and if she really had 
a fault it was in the fact that she seldom appar- 
ently indulged in sober reflection. She had been 
trying for some time to read “The Vicar of Wake- 
field.” Her mother said a book of that kind might 
possibly do her good and have a subduing influence 
upon what she considered her rather frivolous char- 
acter, but she had scarcely begun its perusal when 
the door opened and in walked her Uncle Ben, who 
lived on a farm just at the outskirts of the city. 

“Why, Uncle Ben, how did you get in?” 

“Walked in, of course. I alius walk when I 
don’t ride. I expect to fly some time, but you never 
will if you don’t settle yourself down and do a 
little sober thinkin’ once in a while.” 

“Thinking makes you have wrinkles. Uncle Ben.” 

“Wa’al, wrinkles are just what some of us need. 
They’re marks of wisdom and sorrer and sech. 
85 


86 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


You never know much about life until you get wrin- 
kles. Wa’al, how many beaux have you got now, 
Nell?” 

“Not one.” 

“You ought to have one — and one’s enough. It’s 
time you settled down. I’ve seen a good bit of life 
myself. You didn’t know that I lived in New York 
and Boston and traveled way out west beyond Chi- 
cago, did you, in my younger days? Wa’al, I seen 
enough then to larn me that glitter and show and 
furbelows don’t amount to much. You see a young 
man, whose clothes are the latest cut and who looks 
jest as if he come out of a bandbox, and in nine 
cases out of ten that’s all there is to him. He 
hasn’t got much else to think of but looks which are 
good enough to visit but sometimes angels can’t live 
with ’em. Don’t pick out a man for his looks, Nell. 
Find out if there’s anything underneath the looks.” 

“But a girl don’t pick out a man. Uncle Ben. 
Young men are supposed to pick her out.” 

“No, but she can do suthin’ towards it. She kin 
show her own good p’ints and draw out the feelin’s 
of the young fellow. Now when I was courtin’ 
your Aunt Elizabeth, she was as cranky as all out- 
doors at first and I didn’t know what to make on’t. 
It was nateral enough in her, I guess, and seems 
to me as ef the whole thing wuz a provision of nater 
to keep a gal from throwin’ herself away. Your 


THE EXPOUNDER 87 

mother tells me that that new editor has been cornin’ 
around here considible lately,” he continued after a 
pause. “Now there ain’t no harm in sayin’ on’t; 
you’re the only niece I’ve got and 1 h’aint any chil- 
dren of my own, but you’ve got a good many things 
to consider when it comes to editors. Most on ’em 
are a shiftless lot — they’re alius hard up and never 
expect to pay for nothin’, whether it’s admission to 
a strawb’ry festival or a circus. But some on ’em 
hev got brains and brains are wuth a mighty sight 
mor’n money. They tell me Frazier is a likely chap 
and he’s makin’ a mighty good paper. He isn’t 
supportin’ the Republican party as he orter though, 
and stands up too much for the furriners for me. 
All I want to say to you about him is that ef you 
take a fancy to him because he’s handsome and 
writes fer the papers, you’ll make a big mistake. 
The best man for any woman is the one that’ll stand 
by her through thick and thin and who makes a 
good home fer her, no matter whether it’s a big one 
or a little one. All this talk about love flyin’ out 
of the winder when poverty comes into the door is 
humbug. Poverty ain’t half so apt to drive out 
love as money.” 

“Well, I think you needn’t worry. Uncle Ben. 
Mr. Frazier is not thinking of marrying any one, 
I imagine, just at present. He can’t afford it.” 

“Two can live cheaper’n one — that’s the way I 


88 


fVHATS HE TO MEf 


convinced your Aunt Elizabeth — and with a lot more 
comfort. It’s all very well when you’re young, 
Nell, to be goin’ here, thar’ and everywhar’ with 
this or that young man, but when one gits old, 
they’re not so popular. Why, ’Lizabeth with her 
white hair and wrinkled cheeks is just as pooty to me 
as she was when her eyes wuz as bright as yours 
and her cheeks round and pink.” 

After Helen went to her room that night she in- 
dulged in unusual reflections. She did like Harold 
Frazier. She had come to look forward to his 
calls, to miss him when days went by and he did not 
come. He evidently liked her, too. She noticed 
how his face lighted up when she came into the 
room, how his eyes sought hers at the conventional 
greeting. She had an idea of his struggle and the 
burden he was carrying and she longed to aid him. 
In every true woman there is a strongly developed 
instinct of sympathetic helpfulness, which is purely 
maternal. She yearns to protect the weak, and this 
instinct, wrongly understood, has led many a woman 
to imagine herself in love with a man when she was 
moved only by his loneliness or need of her. 

Her eyes wandered to the mirror but she turned 
away with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. 

“I’m ashamed of you, Helen Warren, to let an 
old man like Uncle Ben make you so sentimental,” 
she finally mused. 


CHAPTER XI 


Hey! my friend, help me out of my danger first; you can make 
your speech afterwards. — L a Fontaine. 

Frazier went to work as usual the next morning 
after the fracas with Piggott, but he could not center 
his thoughts upon his writing. After what had oc- 
curred, he was almost sure that the mortgage would 
be foreclosed at once — ^just as quickly as the neces- 
sary papers could be drawn. True, there was a 
slight hope that Piggott might not feel warranted in 
taking such a summary step during the heat of an 
exciting political campaign. It would injure his 
chances at the polls. But possibly, in his self-adula- 
tion, he might imagine it would strengthen him. 
However, Frazier concluded there was ground for 
hope that the foreclosure proceedings might be de- 
layed a week or two. Yet this was merely the view 
of a drowning man who catches at a straw. Hope 
often remains after there is not the slightest reason 
for it. In this case as in so many others, however, 
it was finally dispelled. Even while Frazier was 
reviewing the matter and making such plans as 
seemed to be feasible for raising the money in case 
the mortgage had to be paid, a deputy sheriff en- 
89 


fVHATS HE TO MEf 


90 

tered the office of the Review and asked to see him. 

“You will find him in that little room,” said Don- 
ald. 

The official did not wait to knock. He opened 
the door and went into the editorial room with the 
assurance of authority and power. These qualities 
often dazzle the possessor as well as the beholder. 
In such cases they magnify meanness, showing how 
few men are wise enough to be entrusted with them. 
The sheriff was a short, stout man, with a smoothly 
shaven face, and it was evident that the troubles of 
others did not worry him in the slightest. He knew 
Frazier well, having met him about town on differ- 
ent occasions. 

“Good morning, Mr. Frazier,” he said, “I have 
got a rather unpleasant duty to perform.” 

“What is it?” Frazier raised his eyes from the 
desk at which he was writing, and at that moment 
the sheriff reached out and quickly thrust a paper 
into his hand, as if in some way he feared he would 
refuse to take it. It was the usual formal notice of 
the foreclosure of the Review plant, “for breach of 
the conditions thereof.” 

“Now,” continued the sheriff, “I must put a 
keeper in here and you will have to give me the key 
of the office. Of course you can go on getting out 
your paper as usual.” 

“Yes, I presume so.” 


THE FORECLOSURE 


91 


“I shall have to see that the office is closed after 
six o’clock,” added the sheriff, “for I don’t suppose 
I can get a keeper to stay here evenings, and I can’t 
allow anybody in here unless the keeper is here too.” 

Frazier did not exactly understand the majesty 
and formality of the law, but he readily surrendered 
the key of the office, adding: 

“All right. Whatever your duty, do it. I don’t 
suppose you will do any more, nor do I expect you 
to do any less. Let’s see,” he said, again scanning 
the paper, “when is the sale to take place?” 

“Ten days from today at nine o’clock in the fore- 
noon. That is, unless you get the money before 
that time, when perhaps some settlement could be 
made,” the sheriff added soothingly. He lingered 
for a moment, expecting that Frazier would make 
some reply, but as none was forthcoming, he retired 
with: 

“Well, good morning, Mr. Frazier.” 

As soon as the sheriff had gone, Frazier went out 
into the business office, as was his custom when any- 
thing either good or ill occurred, and informed Don- 
ald what had been done. 

“Well, Don,” he said, with a somewhat forced 
gaiety, “we may as well begin to pack up. Possibly 
I may be able to raise $10,000 in some way, just 
as there is a possibility we may be struck by light- 
ning. There is absolutely nothing positively certain 


92 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


in this world, but I must admit that it looks very 
much as if Piggott would have a newspaper on his 
hands in less than two weeks. However, I am not 
going to sit down and assume this to be the case. I 
shall try to raise the money somewhere. There are 
two or three in town I want to see who might help 
me if they would, and possibly I may be foolish, but 
I think there are hundreds who would do so if they 
could. You know we were speaking some time ago 
of one or two who might do something, although I 
believe you were rather doubtful. But Denny Mc- 
Grath may have it, and you know we spoke of Julius 
Cohen, who might think favorably of advancing 
money as a business transaction. Then there is Wil- 
liam Bailey. I shall see him as a last resort. By 
the way, an Irishman, a Jew and a Yankee. It will 
be interesting to know which of the three, if either, 
will be most inclined to make such a loan. Of 
course the security is good enough, but the history of 
newspapers in this city has been rather unfortunate 
as business enterprises, and nobody may care to put 
any money in them. However, I propose to keep 
right along ‘sawing wood,’ as they say, or rather get- 
ting out just as good a paper as I can, but tomorrow 
morning early I will go out on a tour of money- 
raising or an attempt at money-raising — something 
I am not especially fitted for, but something I must 
try to do, whether I am fitted for it or like it or not.” 


93 


THE QUEST 

“It would be a pity if you had to give the 
paper up now,” said Donald, “just after you have 
raised it into a position of some influence and it is 
beginning to do well, and I hope you will do your 
best to try and raise the money. You can’t any 
more than fail, and I know you won’t do any less 
than deserve to succeed. Meantime, I will look 
around a little. I have lived here much longer 
than you and possibly may be able to help you. But 
don’t put any dependence upon it.’’ 

“Well, Don, we’ll hope for the best, any way. 
I shall not lose any sleep over it, for no man has 
a right to lose sleep unless he has a troubled con- 
science. Of course I should like to continue with 
the Review, for I believe there is a field of work 
here in an educational way that would benefit the 
community, but if fate wills otherwise, why, we 
shall have to take it as it comes.’’ 

The next morning early Frazier set out for Denny 
McGrath’s place on Front street to see him about 
the loan. It was not an errand that he fancied. 
Frazier was a worker, but not much of a promoter. 
Although he knew that the loan was a safe one, pro- 
vided his health and strength were continued, he 
likewise knew that it was not one that small capital- 
ists or large would consider especially attractive. 

Mr. McGrath’s establishment was quite exten- 
sive. He made his start in the liquor business; re- 


94 


JVHATS HE TO MEf 


tail at first, then wholesale, until he had finally ac- 
quired real estate, built houses and rented them. 
He was reputed to be quite well-to-do and Frazier 
had little doubt of his ability to make the loan, pro- 
vided he had the inclination. He found him at the 
office of his wholesale liquor establishment, reading 
a morning paper behind the railing. Several book- 
keepers were busy at their work. McGrath arose 
when Frazier entered. 

“Good morning. This is Mr. McGrath, I be- 
lieve,” he said. 

“Yes, sor; I believe you are the editor of the Re- 
view, and a dom good paper you’re makin’ of it, 
too,” was the reply, in just the slightest brogue, and 
in the manner of a man who had brushed up against 
all classes, but who had been softened and refined 
by association with the well-to-do. “What can I do 
for you, sor?” 

“If I can see you alone just a moment,” said 
Frazier, “I will tell you.” 

“Why, of course; come right in this way.” Mr. 
McGrath led the way into a back office and asked 
Frazier to have a seat. 

“Well, I called,” said he, somewhat hesitatingly, 
“to see if you would do me a favor. Mr. Percy 
Piggott, candidate for state senator, holds a mort- 
gage for $10,000 on the Review printing plant, and 
he this morning notified me of a foreclosure. Now 


THE CONFESSION 


95 


I must raise the money to meet it in some way, and 
so I have come to you.” 

“Well, me boy, you ought to hev known that such 
a dom rascal would foreclose. I hev a very poor 
opinion of that mon — that I hev — he is the divil’s 
own servant. Now what I say to ye, young man, 
must go no further. It will be news to ye and it 
may help ye. I like yer paper; I may as well say 
that at the beginning. Ye speak the truth, are in- 
depindent and give the common folks a show. But, 
bless ye, me boy, I heven’t got $10,000 in the first 
place, and I couldn’t git it, and in the next place, 
if I hed it and loaned it to ye, I wouldn’t dare let it 
be known. Think of that, now! I’m said to be 
worth a good deal of money, an’ I wish I was, but 
I’m tellin’ ye the truth, young man, when I say that 
Jim Ashbell of the big mill has got a claim on about 
all I’ve got. Of course the mortgages are held by 
the banks, but he owns the banks and I don’t know 
what the divil he don’t own. An’ they say, young 
man, that he is not over much friendly to ye — that 
he thinks ye hev rather encouraged the help in the 
mills to stand up for their rights, and I’m tellin’ ye 
that he wouldn’t want any one to let ye hev the 
money. This comes sthraight to me and I give it 
sthraight to ye. An’ mind ye, don’t ask how I know 
it, for I’ll not be tellin’ ye. Young man, I wish 
ye well, but I can’t help ye.” 


96 


ir HAT’S HE TO MEf 


“Well, Mr. McGrath,” was Frazier’s comment, 
“I am not so much surprised to hear that Ashbell 
don’t like the way I run the Review as I am to hear 
that he has got you in his power.” 

“But ye needn’t be, then; Jim Ashbell has got his 
thumb on more of us than ye think. He owns ivery 
bank in the city; he’s got a mortgage on half the 
retail stores, and if things kape on, he’ll soon own 
the whole dom city. An’ ” — McGrath’s voice sank 
into a whisper — “I don’t loike it, but in my present 
financial sthraights divil a word dare I say.” 

Frazier expressed his thanks, told McGrath he 
would accept the will for the deed, and bade him 
good morning. 

Then he went to see Julius Cohen. Mr. Cohen 
kept a large clothing store. It was in a handsome 
business building, which he himself owned, the upper 
portions being divided into offices. He was highly 
esteemed as a citizen and a man of business. Fra- 
zier knew him very well ; and asking him if he could 
see him on a private business matter, he was at once 
taken into the private office. 

Frazier explained the situation much the same as 
he did to Mr. McGrath, adding that he hoped to 
pay off the new mortgage — providing he was fortu- 
nate enough to negotiate one — in at least five years 
from date, making one payment each year. 

Cohen listened with attention and asked several 


THE ADVICE 


97 


questions concerning the business and its prospects. 

“So Piggott is going to foreclose, is he?” he re- 
marked. 

“He has already foreclosed, and the property is 
advertised to be sold at public auction a week from 
next Thursday.” 

“Ach, so soon?” was the comment, and — slightly 
dropping into the German accent — “bud he makes a 
misdake. It will cost him more than a thousand 
votes when he does that. The beople are with the 
Review. Now I wish I could help you, Mr. Fra- 
zier, bud I can’d. Mr. Piggott and 1 are both direc- 
tors in the Virst National Bank and the street rail- 
way company. I know Mr. Piggott well, bud I 
don’d say what I know. It wouldn’t do. In busi- 
ness we can’d you know Ain’d that righd?” 

“Possibly,” was Frazier’s reply. 

“I advertise in the Review and help it all I can; 
bud, young man, let me give you some good advice. 
Don’d take up so much with them workin’ fellows; 
there’s nudding in it; it hurts the city. They don’d 
built it up. You can use ’em well, but don’d en- 
courage ’em in being so discontented like. Labor 
can’d do nudding without capital, and when capital 
makes money, then labor makes money, don’d it? 
Ashbell told me the other day that he would close 
his mill righd up before he would have his help in- 
terfere the way they have been doing in some blaces. 


98 


fV HAT’S HE TO ME? 


The man what makes the business and puts in the 
money must run it, don’d it?” 

“Then you can’t let me have the money, Mr. 
Cohen?” said Frazier, with just the slightest inflec- 
tion of impatience. 

“No; I am sorry to say I can’d, bud I hope you 
will get it somewhere else. When you get a good 
start you will be all righd; money makes money. As 
long as you have got it you have got a friend, and 
when you don’d get it you don’d get no friend. 
Anudder thing: brint more zensations in your paper. 
Beoples like it. Brint all the news you can. Don’d 
do so much breachin’ in the Review; then you’ll make 
more money.” 

Frazier thanked him for his wise counsel, and if 
there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice, it was not 
detected. Bidding him good morning, he walked 
out, uncertain whether to make the last effort to se- 
cure the loan that day or go back to the office. He 
was not exactly discouraged, for he was something 
of a philosopher, if not a fatalist, and held to the 
belief that if the very best be done that one knows 
how to do, there can be no great misfortune in the 
long run. Yet his experience had not been encour- 
aging, and he could hardly believe what had been 
told him by McGrath, satisfied as he was of his 
absolute fairness in discussing the relations of capital 
and labor, and local or general industrial subjects. 


THE CHURCH 


99 


Mr. William Bailey, whom Frazier next sought 
out, was a real estate dealer. Like the others, Fra- 
zier had met him on occasions. He called at his 
office and was received cordially. In this case his 
request for the loan was as direct as it had been to 
McGrath and Cohen. Mr. Bailey rather evaded 
an absolute reply at the outset, but became remin- 
iscent, telling Frazier how he himself had made his 
way in the world. 

“When I came to this city sixteen years ago,” said 
he, “I had only four hundred dollars to my name. 
The fust thing I did was to look ’round and connect 
myself with a good church. There was men in it of 
considible propity then as there are now. This gave 
the business community conferdence in me and I 
have made money ever since. Not that I’d advise 
any one to jine the church for business reasons, but 
it puts ye in touch with the better class, an’ ye know 
who to go to when ye want a favor. Let’s see, 
Mr. Frazier, you’ve got a church home, ain’t you? 
Which church do you go to?” 

“Since I have been in the city I have found it 
necessary to go anywhere my work called me on 
Sunday,” was the reply. “The Review reporters 
work hard all the week, and I don’t like to ask them 
to be on duty Sunday, so I usually report the ser- 
mon myself — choosing one of the most important 
ones for the next day’s paper. Owing to this I 


lOO 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


have been unable to attend any one church regu- 
larly.” 

“ ’Er, yes, I see,” was the reply, “but yet I think 
you had orter erfiliated with some one church. It 
pays to get in with good people. Look at me, now, 
and see how I have gone ahead. If I wanted 
$10,000 termorrer, I should know just where to go 
and get it.” 

“Such a condition must be very consoling,” said 
Frazier. “But, Mr. Bailey, I am in just a bit of a 
hurry to get back to the office. Do you think you 
can let me have the money, taking the Review plant 
as security? You can go over and send an expert 
to examine it. I think you will find that the prop- 
erty will justify such a loan and I am sure it will be 
paid off altogether in less than five years. I am 
willing to give the very highest rate of interest.” 

Bailey hesitated a moment before he replied. 
“Well, it is suthin’ of a temptation, I must confess, 
but I am afraid of it. Newspapers have their ups 
and downs. The minute they begin to excite the 
anichists and them labor union fellers, they are sure 
to go down. The newspapers must stand up for 
the churches, for eddication, and the — er, er, homes. 
Seems to me the Review isn’t doing the way it orter. 
Ef you’ll promise to tell them reckless labor ager- 
taters how much harm they’re doin’ the cause of 
honest toil, and try to help us better class in keepin’ 


THE FAILURE 


lOI 


’em down where they belong, I dunno but what I 
might help you. But I’m afraid you won’t prosper 
much as long as you give them labor cranks any 
show. Now I don’t want you to feel offended, Mr. 
Frazier. I alius speak out just what I believe, and 
am ready to give advice to any one. I’ve got the 
conferdence of the people of this community. You 
ask any one. Hain’t you noticed how they choose 
me to be executor of estates, and I’m proberly wuth 
more than $60,000 today. Yes, sir; you go and do 
the way I’ve done, and you won’t be in debt very 
long.” 

With a suggestive touch that Mr. Bailey never 
suspected, Frazier remarked as he bade him good 
day, “I can readily see how you acquired your 
property, Mr. Bailey. Your life is a lesson to all 
young men.” And as he closed the door and went 
into the street, Frazier added mentally, “If that’s 
the way to get rich, then I think I shall remain 
poor.” 

“Well, Don,” said Frazier, after the paper had 
gone to press that afternoon, and carriers were sent 
out and newsboys disposed of, “I suppose you would 
like to know what success I had in trying to make 
the $10,000 loan. I imagine, however, that you 
have an inkling of the result from my manner to- 
day. A man can’t look very jolly when he is 
going to be hanged.” 


02 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“No, Frazier, I haven’t observed anything un- 
usual in your looks or manner, but I have not been 
sanguine as to the outcome. Ten thousand dollars 
is not such a large sum when you have got it, but it 
is a mighty large sum when you have got it to get. 
But I would like to know what success you had.” 

“The success of Napoleon at Waterloo and Lee 
at Appomattox. I am both sadder and wiser than 
I was this morning. Likewise there were some 
amusing features connected with my interviews with 
McGrath, Cohen and Bailey. McGrath tells me 
that we make a first-rate paper and he would like 
to help me, but he is practically owned by Ashbell. 
Cohen could have done something, but he was afraid 
to, because of his associations with Piggott and other 
monied men. He, however, freely gave me some 
advice as to how I ought to run the Review, telling 
me I ought to ‘brint more zensations.’ Bailey sug- 
gested that I had made a mistake in not connecting 
myself with some church. He thinks I should ‘steal 
the livery of heaven to serve the devil with,’ the 
same as he has. But if he imagines I have so little 
respect and fear and love for God Almighty that I 
will go to church for personal gain, then he makes 
quite a mistake. I haven’t got quite so low down 
as that yet.” 

“Don’t you suppose you could get it of some one 
in New York?” asked Donald. 


THE PERSISTENCE 


103 


“That is just what I have been thinking of. It 
is worth trying. Everything is worth trying, and 
I will get my editorials off this evening and take the 
midnight train and see what I can do there tomor- 


\ 


p 


CHAPTER XII 

Tell me what you like, and I will tell you what you are. — 
Ruskin. 

Frazier’s trip to New York was unsuccessful. 
He spent the day there, calling upon those whom 
he thought likely to make such a loan, but no one 
was quite willing to take the risk. They seemed 
to feel that the place to get a favor of that kind was 
in his own city and at his own bank, where actual 
conditions were fully known. He returned to town 
feeling that he had exhausted every expedient. He 
found on his desk at the office a note from Miss 
Colton inviting him to dinner the following day. 

“Come any time after three,” it read, “although 
dinner will not be served until six. The Rolkas are 
to be my guests, but no others. Never mind an 
answer. But I shall be glad to see you if you feel 
like it when the hour comes.” 

Frazier liked that kind of an invitation. Had 
Miss Colton requested an answer by bearer, he 
would have sent her his polite regrets, but when 
three o’clock came the next day and time hung rather 
heavily on his hands, he decided to accept it. 

A pleasant-faced maid opened the door. Miss 
Colton was in the conservatory, and it was against 
105 


io6 PFHJrS HE TO ME? 

a background of towering palms that Frazier saw 
her. 

“I am glad I happened to be in here,” she said 
in her cordial way. “Eliza thinks the parlor is the 
proper place to receive visitors, but I fear if you 
had gone there first, you would have fled down the 
steps before I could intercept you. This is the only 
place in the house in which I feel free. The other 
rooms oppress me. Did you ever feel conscious 
when you went into a strange house of the entities 
that lived and died within it?” 

“No,” returned Frazier, smiling, “I am too prac- 
tical and too busy to be affected by shadows. It is 
the flesh and blood entities that oppress me, not the 
dead ones.” 

“You don’t understand,” returned Miss Colton, 
“I mean that our thoughts and moods leave an im- 
palpable something behind us, just as vibrations of 
light and sound are transmitted and received many 
miles and after many years. In my case I have not 
been able to determine whether there is a scientific 
explanation or whether it is merely a morbid imag- 
ination, but I cannot go into Uncle Seth’s parlor and 
library without feeling the narrowness of his poor 
starved soul and the intensity of the one aim of his 
life — money. Just come in there with me for a 
moment.” 


THE UGLINESS 107 

Frazier followed her through the long, broad hall 
to the parlor. 

The woodwork was of black walnut, somber and 
heavy, the mantelpiece ugly and ornate, with gilt 
profusely used in the decoration, a huge mirror fill- 
ing in the space to the ceiling. The walls had a 
light paper with heavy gold figures that thrust them- 
salves forward beyond the heavy gilding of the 
framed portraits and impossible landscapes that 
hung against them. The carpet had unnatural vivid 
pink and red roses on a bright green ground. The 
furniture was of black walnut, upholstered in yellow 
brocade. The few ornaments were offensive to the 
eye. 

“Isn’t it atrocious?” said Miss Colton. “Why 
is it that an Italian peasant will don all the colors of 
the rainbow and yet be pleasing to the eye, or an 
Indian with his buckskins and feathers and war paint 
will not jar on one like the attempt at beauty or 
adornment by some of us Americans, especially those 
with a streak of Puritan ancestry?” 

Frazier laughed at her vehemence. 

“The ‘library’ is no better,” she said, as she 
moved back the heavy sliding doors. “How would 
this strike a book-lover?” 

In one corner was a bookcase and desk combined. 
Frazier looked at the titles. Save a set of Shakes- 
peare, bound in half-calf, the books comprised vapid 


io8 JVHATS HE TO ME? 

fiction and poetry with books which gave the young 
American ideas as to “getting on in the world.” 
There were a few speeches of statesmen and some 
congressional records. The walls were papered in 
a deep wine color, which gave a dark and forbidding 
aspect to the room. The furniture was stiff and 
uncomfortable, of a shape that belonged to no epoch 
in particular, but was a combination of several. It 
was upholstered in scarlet plush. The pictures 
were largely steel engravings. There was a portrait 
of Lincoln, one of Grant, still another of Washing- 
ton, while the others dealt largely with angels and 
the life to come — not copies of old masters who 
have faithfully preserved to us the religious spirit 
of their age — but modern work that denoted a 
mawkish sentimentality. 

“How would you like to be shut up in rooms like 
these?” demanded Miss Colton. 

“At least they are larger and more spacious than 
mine at the City Hotel, but as for decoration, I think 
I prefer where I am, thank you.” 

Miss Colton laughed. 

“I have to give vent to my feelings occasionally,” 
she said. “People expect me to entertain, but how 
can I ? I won’t spend a penny more than I can help 
on the house, for I don’t intend to live here always. 
Property values are rising and eventually business 
blocks or apartment houses will be built in this neigh- 


THE SATISFYING 


109 


borhood, or I shall deed it to some one who will 
make a better use of it. Until then I can live 
here,” she said as she entered the conservatory. 
“This is the one thing in my life that I have really 
owned that quite satisfies me.” 

Tropical plants reached to the glass roof, and in 
the center a fountain played, fat gold fish swimming 
lazily in the marble basin. There were few flower- 
ing plants, but the delicious sense of green retreats, 
such as one feels in the mountain woods. In one 
corner was a wicker steamer chair, and there were 
others of a less indolent pattern, all furnished with 
cushions covered with oriental embroidery. Hand- 
some rugs covered spaces of the tiled floor, the one 
directly in the corner being a beautiful antique 
Guenje. A small revolving case held books and 
magazines, and in a quaint Arapahoe basket were 
all the implements of the needlewoman. 

Frazier took up the open book that lay on a chair. 
It was Balzac’s autobiography. 

“Do you admire Balzac?” 

“Yes, he appeals to me, for he was so human and 
understood the depths and shallows of mankind — 
something like this fountain throwing up its jets in 
its effort to reach the roof and falling back to 
bravely begin again and continue day after day and 
month after month in its futile efforts. I see so 
many people striving hopelessly like the fountain. 


I lO 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


As water seeks its own level, so we can only rise as 
far as the source of our intellect and talents ordain. 
Some people are like Uncle Seth’s rooms, they are 
all for show. But I come in here and rest my eyes 
on the green of the leaves, hear the encouraging 
note of the fountain, and I get a strength I find 
nowhere else. Even this rug rests me,” pointing to 
the silky picture at her feet. “The man who made 
that worked out what was in his heart and soul. 
That is the reason it appeals to me. It is earnest, 
true work. That is why I like Rolka. But here 
they come now; you shall judge for yourself.” 

“You are unusually formal, Mrs. Rolka,” was 
Miss Colton’s greeting. “I expected you before.” 

“I was obliged to wait for my sister. She always 
stays with the children,” was the reply. Then she 
turned to Frazier, to acknowledge with a timid bow 
the introduction. Rolka and Frazier had met be- 
fore, and the candidate for mayor gave Frazier a 
sympathetic pressure as he shook his hand. 

Before they had time to be seated, the maid threw 
open the doors into the dining room and announced 
dinner. 

Rolka, in answer to a question from Vera, was 
giving an account of the meeting the night before. 
Frazier turned to Mrs. Rolka to fulfill his own 
social obligation, but she was utterly unconscious of 
every one in the room but her husband. Her face 


THE VULNERABLE 


III 


was flushed and her eyes shone as he gave the pur- 
port of his latest speech. Her hands twitched ner- 
vously and Frazier noticed how large and red they 
were. Involuntarily he recalled a pair of hands that 
belonged to a contributor of a New York paper when 
he was in charge there. She was a woman of a 
peculiarly aggressive type, with strongly marked 
masculine features. But like Achilles, she was vul- 
nerable. She was inordinately vain of her hands. 
They were small and smooth and plump and as dim- 
pled as a baby’s. Dependent, she would not work 
lest it would soil her hands. Her manuscript was 
always in pencil, lest ink should leave a stain. But 
Mrs. Rolka’s hands had become hardened and 
coarsened in a constant and noble service. 

“What seems to be your chances for election, Mr. 
Rolka?” asked Frazier, after a chat on general sub- 
jects. 

“About one in a hundred.” 

“What? So little as that?” 

“Yes; no more. The opposition will spare noth- 
ing to defeat me. They were glad to see me nom- 
inated and did what little lay in their power to ac- 
complish it, for they considered me an easy man to 
beat. It gives them a chance to play on the cry of 
anarchy and to inspire a fear of socialism. Many 
honest citizens who want good government and jus- 
tice for all classes, really believe that my election 


II2 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


would be a victory for lawlessness and riot. They 
hate me because they don’t know me and they don’t 
know me because they hate me. I am sorry I was 
nominated. It was not of my own seeking, but I will 
not now shirk the responsibility. My health and 
strength are not of the best and sometimes a feeling 
comes over me foreboding some calamity. But 
there is probably nothing in it” — looking at Mrs. 
Rolka. “It is the unexpected that usually happens 
and not that which is looked for. Another reason 
why I have no great desire to be elected mayor is 
because I could do so little for the common people, 
if I were. Reform in laws must come first to the 
nation, then to state and finally to the city or town. 
But I can speak some plain truths on the platform, 
and there is need of it. The people have only them- 
selves to blame for their condition. With the rem- 
edy for every just cause of complaint in their own 
hands, they refuse to take it.” 

“But why are you so skeptical about the result? 
The working people are better organized than ever 
before and it is claimed that you will get the support 
of the Democrats.” 

“Yes; but you don’t know the influences against 
me. Your paper uses me fairly and I have no 
cause to complain, but the Morning Gazette treats 
me as if I were a social outcast. Because you have 
been disposed to treat both sides fairly in the Re- 


THE CAMPAIGN 


113 

view, I understand the mortgage on your newspaper 
has been foreclosed.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind that much,” interrupted Fra- 
zier. “It has not caused me to swerve to the extent 
of a hair in what I think is right.” 

“And I suppose I ought to urge you to recant and 
save your property,” continued Rolka, somewhat 
bitterly. “But I shall not. I am never going to 
advise a man to do anything else than what he con- 
siders his duty. There is enough truckling to wealth 
without having it increased by interested admoni- 
tion.” 

“But if the workers stand by you,” said Frazier, 
turning the subject, “you will make a very close con- 
test and possibly be elected after all.” 

“Yes, but they won’t stand by me. Many of 
those who can’t be frightened or cajoled will be 
bought. The opposition will spare nothing to de- 
feat me.” 

“But how can a man’s vote be bought with a 
secret ballot?” 

“Why, it is simple enough. The tools of Ashbell 
are as cunning as they are unscrupulous. They sim- 
ply know their men and offer voters five dollars each, 
if their ticket is elected. If it is not elected they 
get nothing. You may be at a loss to understand 
how five dollars would influence a man to commit a 
crime, but you know little of the temptation to a man 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


114 

when five dollars amounts to nearly a whole week’s 
work.” 

“Of course,” rejoined Frazier, “it is almost im- 
possible to convict for an offence of this kind, when 
both the participants are anxious to conceal it. 
When a man steals your purse, you try to have him 
convicted, but when you buy his vote, you are equally 
interested with him in his protection and your own 
as well.” 

“Yet, if I can do nothing more,” said Rolka, “I 
can be of some good to my fellow men by spurring 
them up to a sense of duty. I shall denounce this 
lawlessness and all such iniquities on the platform, 
and try to set the people thinking. Not long ago I 
stood over the bedside of my father and crossed his 
arms on his breast, and as I noticed those hands, 
misshapen with toil, and thought that he had given 
his life as a sacrifice to greed and in return received 
nothing but privation and destitution, I then and 
there made a vow that I would do whatsoever lay 
in my power to make better conditions for the toil- 
ers. I never expect to reap any benefit from it, but 
those who come after me may.” 

Frazier was impressed by the man’s earnestness, 
and with a few words of commendation for his hon- 
est purpose, the subject was changed. 

Miss Colton had been an interested listener to the 
conversation, but she made no comment. 


THE CONTRIBUTION 1 15 

After the dinner was over, she called Rolka to one 
side and pressed a sum of money into his hands, with 
the remark that he probably would need it for legit- 
imate campaign expenses. He said he had not spent 
a penny thus far, but if she insisted he would use 
the money as he deemed best for the cause of the 
common people. 


CHAPTER XIII 


The chariest maid is prodigal enough if she unmasks her beauty 
to the moon. — H amlet. 

The entire city was tiptoe with expectation; that 
is, that part of it that belonged to society. Every 
year all the churches and clubs united in one great 
effort for a local charity. This year the Old Ladies’ 
Home was to be the beneficiary. Mrs. Royal 
Quincy and Helen Warren were among the prime 
leaders in what promised to be a novel entertain- 
ment. The parquet of the Bijou Theatre had been 
floored and the boxes as well as the seats in the 
first balcony had been auctioned off at a high figure. 
Those participating in what was to be termed an 
“Astronomical Party’’ were to furnish their own 
costumes and the entire gross receipts were to be 
devoted to this worthy object. 

Mrs. Quincy had sought the Review for advance 
local notices. Frazier had not only given her gen- 
erous free space in its columns but had also helped 
her to write interesting advertisements, though 
he himself was as much in the dark as to the exact 
nature of the entertainment as any one in the city. 
Mrs. Quincy had made him promise that he himself 


ii8 WHATS HE TO ME? 

would write the report of the affair for the Review, 
and Helen had also insisted that he attend. 

“Must I go in costume?” he demanded in answer 
to her command. 

“Oh, you are such a star yourself that you will 
pass muster if you wear your dress suit,” she an- 
swered. 

At last the evening arrived. Frazier did not 
want to go. If there was anything he disliked it 
was a social function of this kind, but Mrs. Quincy 
had been singularly affable of late, due perhaps to 
the fact that he was disliked by Ashbell, and Helen 
and Miss Colton were to be there, so he might get 
a bit of pleasure out of it after all. And, with the 
burden of the approaching sale on his mind and 
heart, he welcomed anything that would divert his 
attention even briefly. 

The Bijou Theatre had been tastefully decorated 
for the occasion under the direction of Professor 
Uhl of Yale, who had also planned the evolutions 
and made suggestions in regard to the costumes of 
the various planets and stars. Except in the foyer 
and on the stage, where palms and rubber plants 
were massed, the decorations were entirely of dark 
blue bunting with gilt stars arranged to form famil- 
iar constellations. In fact the ceiling of the theatre 
had been made into a dome and turned into a clever 
fac-simile of the heavens at that particular time, the 


THE CONSTELLATIONS 


119 

more brilliant stars of the familiar constellations, as 
well as the planets then visible in the autumn sky, 
being simulated with electric lights. The guests in 
the seats amused themselves reviving their knowl- 
edge of astronomy, while they waited for the enter- 
tainment to begin. Many could find Ursa Major, 
Pleiades, Tahrus and Lyra, but only a few could 
trace the less familiar constellations, and much pleas- 
ant chaffing was the result. 

Jim Warren, in costume to represent Galileo, read 
the program from the stage. In time to a slow, 
dreamy waltz, followed by the rays of the calcium 
light, came as the Sun a tall, graceful girl of the 
purest blonde type — the center of the solar sys- 
tem. She wore a dancing gown of glistening white 
satin, adorned with a profusion of crystal prisms 
that gave out tiny rainbow flashes as their fasces 
caught the light. Her beautiful long blonde hair 
was unconfined, save for a gorgeous tiara made of 
tiny electric lights. She gracefully moved to her 
place on the floor, followed by Mercury — a young 
lad in tights of steel links, like Harlequin — in his 
coat of mail. Similar to the real Mercury, he kept 
his face turned toward the Sun as he revolved around 
her. 

Venus was personated by a young girl of a sen- 
suous type, who like the Venus de Medici was small 
and dainty. Professor Uhl had suggested that 


120 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Venus should be gowned in silver, since the planet, 
owing to the diffused light of day when it is seen, 
is more like a moon in her reflected light. 

The Earth was personated by a young man whose 
round good-natured face appeared from the huge 
spherical framework covered with cotton cloth, on 
which had been painted rude maps of the two hem- 
ispheres. A burst of applause greeted him, fol- 
lowed in a moment by murmurs of approval as Mrs. 
Royal Quincy, as the Moon, majestically traced the 
orbit of that satellite around the earth. 

“She’s stunning I” Frazier heard on his left, while 
on the right, he heard a whisper: “For the first 
time in forty years Mildred Quincy has played sec- 
ond fiddle.” But it was only in position. Not a 
girl in the room looked as handsome. Her gown 
was of silver spangled net, over the sheeniest of 
steel satin. Clouds of gray tulle trimmed the low 
neck which were held in place by diamond crescents. 
Her gray hair and neck and arms had been pow- 
dered until she looked like a beautiful cameo, while 
a huge silver crescent, as large as the new moon, 
towered above her hair. It was a striking costume, 
and it was plainly to be seen that she enjoyed her 
triumph. 

Next came Mars, a handsome brunette in a chif- 
fon gown of a peculiar reddish or orange yellow 
hue. In deference to Schiaparelli, the skirt was 


THE PLANET 


I2I 


blocked off with black velvet ribbon to simulate the 
disputed canals, and a round white cape denoted 
the polar snow. 

A rotund matron came next as Jupiter. She was 
gowned in blue-gray silk, with stripes of reddish 
hue to simulate the clouds seen on either side of the 
equatorial belt, which was represented by a wide 
girdle of brilliant lemon color. It was a novel and 
picturesque costume, further enhanced by the four 
little girls as satellites that accompanied her. They 
wore white tulle decorated with stripes of gilt paper 
that gave the effect of yellow gold as they danced 
about the planet in their orbits. 

Frazier hardly recognized Miss Colton who next 
appeared as Saturn. He had always seen her in 
unpretentious garb and was not prepared for the 
radiant woman who appeared in a trailing, clinging 
evening gown of silvery satin crepe de chine, a bright 
belt of shining gold being the only ornament as 
she moved gracefully forward. Saturn’s rings were 
cleverly painted on an elliptical framework, which 
was held in place by the nine little satellites, clad in 
white tulle covered with silver stars, in deference to 
the fact that Saturn’s attendant moons are less vis- 
sible and interesting. But the children themselves 
were decidedly interesting. Each was a tiny Italian 
maiden not more than six years old, with big black 


122 JVHATS HE TO ME? 

eyes and curly hair, their flushed cheeks making them 
charming. 

Uranus was personated by a tall, plump girl, clad 
in billowy skirts of cloudlike chiffon, attended by 
four tiny girls as satellites and gowned in the same 
fashion. 

Neptune, in a yellow gown, with her one little 
satellite, came in last. Then to the accompaniment 
of slow, weird music the solar system moved. The 
Sun alone remained stationary, but each planet in its 
own orbit, each satellite in its place, moved in ac- 
cordance with the law of the universe. It was a 
wonderfully pretty sight, and Frazier could but 
admire the ingenuity of it all. 

But where was Helen? She should have been the 
Sun. There was not a girl in town that could com- 
pare with her in beauty. Then the stars — young 
girls dressed in white or yellow — came in and ap- 
parently formed constellations. 

“What an attractive German figure that would 
make,” said Frazier’s loquacious neighbor on his 
right. “That is the prettiest dance I ever saw, and 
to think that a spectacled German professor sug- 
gested it.” 

“Why not?” said Frazier. “The Germans are 
not only mathematical and exact as astronomers but 
romantic and fanciful as musicians.” 

“Funny, Helen Warren is not in it,” she con- 


THE SENSATION 


123 


tinued. “She’s usually the soul of every new thing. 
Maybe something else will come later.’’ 

Just then the music stopped and the planets and 
stars halted in their places. Jim Warren announced 
from the stage that the audience would please keep 
their seats when the lights were turned off, as it was 
a part of the performance. Then the weird dance 
of the spheres began again, and the theatre was in 
darkness save where the reflected light from the 
many prisms showed the dancers moving still to the 
slow music. Suddenly from the middle of the stage 
appeared a resplendent figure. 

“Helen Warren!’’ 

The whisper swept through the theatre. Like 
the embodiment of light she stood poised a moment 
in the enveloping darkness. The effect was not pro- 
duced by a light thrown upon her. She seemed to 
radiate light. Her face and flowing garments were 
luminous. Slowly at first she moved across the 
stage, then down the improvised steps over the or- 
chestra on to the floor, with accelerated steps as she 
neared the Sun. On her head was a fan-like fillet 
and in her hand she carried a flaming torch. The 
calcium light was withdrawn, the planets glided to 
the side of the hall. Then followed what her 
brother announced as the Dance of the Comet. 

A hush, so intense it could be felt, fell on the spec- 
tators, and all gazed intently at the wonderful fig- 


124 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


ure. The gown was evidently of tulle. From the 
bare arms hung winglike open sleeves. Her stream- 
ing hair and tiny slippered feet glowed and shone 
in the darkness. 

Now with measured steps she moved as in a 
stately minuet, her trailing garments a wave of light 
behind her. Then with childlike abandon, she lifted 
her gauzy skirts in both hands and the flashing feet 
could hardly be seen as she danced around the floor 
of the theatre, which true to her character of comet, 
followed an orbit which was a parabolic curve. 
Again and again she was called back by round after 
round of applause to repeat the enchanting perform- 
ance. She was Terpischore herself. 

Finally Galileo had to announce that the Comet 
had finished its course and was not due to return for 
fifty years. Then the lights were turned on and 
the dancing became general. 

Frazier in his capacity as reporter was busy with 
Mrs. Quincy, obtaining the names and details of the 
successful entertainment, when Helen came up to 
them. 

“How did you manage it. Miss Warren? It was 
the most fascinating dance I have ever seen. You 
would win fame and fortune if you would do that 
professionally. Otero, Loie Fuller or even Car- 
mencita in her halcyon days could not approach 
that.” 


THE SECRET 


125 


“You really liked it?” she asked with ingenuous 
pleasure. “1 can’t help dancing any more than I 
can help breathing. If I am ever reduced to earn- 
ing my living it will be dancing, or the circus as a 
bareback rider. I don’t mind saying it to you, for 
you are not a native, but honestly. I’d rather do 
either than be a proper daughter of a long line of 
Plymouth Rock ancestors.” 

“But the luminosity, how did you produce that?” 
asked Frazier. 

“If you won’t tell, I will let you into the secret. 
Phosphoric paint. The torch I rented from one of 
Vera’s Italian peanut vender friends. The handle 
I painted with the paint the same as my dress. My 
fillet was of tiny electric lights, behind glass, covered 
with the palest yellow silk. I was a bit afraid of the 
torch, but that dear Professor Uhl gave me an in- 
combustible fluid preparation to use before I applied 
the paint. He’s the most wonderful man you ever 
saw. There he is now,” and Helen darted off to 
bring forward a small, thin, nervous German, with 
large near-sighted eyes, that peered at him over 
steel-rimmed spectacles. 

Frazier congratulated him duly, and while he was 
talking with him, Helen disappeared, to return in 
a moment with Donald. That was so like her. 
She was always kind and on the look-out for every 
one who was not apparently enjoying himself. 


126 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


“How did you like it, Gordon?” she was asking 
as they came within earshot. 

“Like it I Why, it was the prettiest thing I ever 
saw. I knew you were a witch, Helen, and the best 
dancer in the city, but I did not know you could do 
anything like that. But they are going to dance 
again; we must get out of the way. 

“The next waltz,” she called over her shoulder to 
Frazier. “I promised that as a bribe, if he would 
come here,” she added to Donald. 

“We never remembered about Dicky Peterson,” 
she went on, “and when it was time for him to go 
on the floor, he couldn’t get through the door. Did 
you hear us laugh? So he had to go on from the 
wings and go down the way I did. It was lucky we 
had those steps there or the earth would have been 
left out of the solar system.” 

And so she chatted until the waltz was ended and 
returned to Donald. She left him on some slight 
pretext and the next moment he saw her waltzing 
in Frazier’s arms. 

“They’re just made for each other,” mused Don- 
ald, watching them as they gracefully glided over 
the floor. 

As for Frazier, it had been so long since he had 
danced that he had some misgivings as he stood 
before Helen with a low bow and asked for the 
privilege of his dance. 


THE DANCE 


127 


“I’ll make no apologies for my clumsy feet,” he 
laughed, “but I confess I have no compunction in 
exacting payment.” But after the third step, all 
his love of dancing came back to him. The music 
rendered by the Mozart string quartet was perfect 
and he wished the dance might go on forever. His 
heart beat quicker as he felt Helen’s hand in his 
and a savage impulse seized him to throw conven- 
tionality to the winds and clasp her close to his heart. 
All the loneliness and longing of his life seemed 
surging like great billows into his arms. His face 
was tense and white, and Donald from his seat on 
the side of the floor wondered if Frazier had been 
offended at anything. Helen, too, was unusually 
quiet. She loved to dance, and Frazier kept per- 
fect time, his strong arm and cool head guiding her 
in and out of the maze of dancers. 

The music stopped abruptly with a few deep 
chords. 

“I shall never believe you again, Mr. Frazier,” 
said Helen. “You told me you couldn’t waltz and 
there isn’t a man in town that can do as well.” 

“It was all due to you. Miss Warren. You are 
the muse of dancing herself, and you cast a charm 
over me that made my feet Mercury-winged. I 
wish we might dance on forever. Isn’t that the 
proper expression? Don’t all your admirers say 
that?” he asked jestingly. 


128 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Helen looked up suddenly. What she read in 
his eyes belied his trifling words. She dropped her 
eyes hastily and a deep flush suffused her face and 
neck. But she said nothing. 

Frazier held out his hand. 

“Good night, Miss Warren,” and so he left her. 

“A brief bit of happiness,” he thought as he went 
back to the office to grind out his version of the 
party for the Review. “But for this Piggott fore- 
closure business, I might have hoped to win her 
some day.” 

And through the prosaic lines of typewritten copy 
flashed the scintillating feet of the dancing comet. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Upon every occasion, be sure to make a conscience of what you 
do or say. — Thomas a Kempis. 

“I’m sick of talking about the sale of the Review 
and of my own affairs,” said Frazier to Donald, the 
day before the auction was to occur. “When a 
man is going to be beheaded a description of the 
merits of the axe or the sword that is to do the job, 
or whether he had best wear a stand up or a turned 
down collar, or whether the blade had best be first 
tried on the dog, are not especially consoling topics. 
And there is some food for thought in the fact that 
no one calls to offer consolation save the poor devils 
who could not possibly help me; those who could 
be of assistance if they might, studiously keep away. 
But I suppose that it is to be expected. Our so- 
called friends are often like the shadows, close to us 
while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us the 
instant we cross into the shade. Of course I hate 
to lose the Review after the struggle and final suc- 
cess in putting it on a paying basis, for it is at last 
making money, yet I can begin over again some- 
where else and perhaps profit by^ my experience. 
But, Don, I’m sorry for you. If Piggott thought 
it would displease me, he would no doubt dismiss 
129 


130 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


you when he takes the paper, even though it might 
injure it, and perhaps all the rest of the force would 
be discharged under a similar apprehension or mis- 
apprehension, but I’ve taken good care not to let 
any one know that you are anything more to me 
than so much common clay. Besides, I don’t see 
how he can run it long without you.” 

“I don’t expect to remain, nor do I wish to, with- 
out you, Frazier. Piggott would do a mean thing 
to me just as readily as he would to you,” was Don- 
ald’s reply. “And I think all the rest of the help 
feel the same way. They are beginning to under- 
stand what a hard siege you’ve had of it the past 
year. I think there would be less trouble between 
employers and employed if they understood each 
other better. It’s a great deal easier to feel with 
any one than it is to feel for him. The printers 
appreciated very much your cheerful assent, just as 
soon as you saw the just reason for it, to their claim 
that I should not be allowed to run the linotype 
machines.” 

“Well, I take no credit for that. You put the 
matter in a clear way and I could see the justice of 
it. I’m getting much interested in this industrial 
problem, Don. It is by far the greatest of all the 
questions of the day, because it is world-wide and 
extends to the very bounds of civilization.” 

Frazier did not feel much enthusiasm for his work 


THE SYMPATHY 


31 


that day. He did not care to make an especially 
brilliant issue to help along the new owner, whoever 
he might be, for there was still a possibility that 
some one would bid more for the paper than Pig- 
gott. Nor did he care to give vent to his genuine 
feelings; smarting as he was under a sense of injury 
and misapprehension, he would not express it in the 
columns of the Review — despite the temptation — 
and thus lay himself open to the charge of courting 
sympathy. 

He had scarcely returned to his den when he had 
another visitor. It was Benjamin Huntington — 
the Uncle Ben of Helen Warren. 

“Thought I’d jest come in, Mr. Editor, to see 
about this foreclosin’ matter. What’er they tryin’ 
to do to ye, anyway?’’ 

“Well, I presume you know the facts, Mr. Hun- 
tington, already. They’re pretty well understood 
all over the city, and even out into the suburbs 
where you reside,’’ was the reply. 

“It’s a mighty mean thing,” said Uncle Ben, set- 
tling himself as if he had come for a good long 
visit. “Can’t ye raise the money?” 

“I have been unable to do so, thus far.” 

“I’m durn sorry, for I hev read the Review ever 
since ye tuck it, an’ seems to me ye tried to be square, 
though I don’t go much on these labor unions. 
When I was a young man there was no such thing 


132 


fVHATS HE TO ME? 


known, and there wuz jest as much work and we got 
jest as good pay as they do today.” 

“No doubt, Mr. Huntington; but if it were not 
for the labor unions wages would be far less today 
than they are. Things have changed since you were 
a young man, and the change has necessitated the 
labor organizations. The workers have found it 
necessary to band together to keep up the price of 
their labor just as capital has organized to keep up 
the price of products.” 

“Yes; and I’m agin one jest as much as I’m agin 
t’other. I’pi for liberty. I b’lieve a man should 
work whenever he wants ter and wherever he wants 
ter, and fer what wages he wants ter. An’ I’m as 
much agin the trusts as I am agin the labor unions.” 

“Well, no one can find much fault with such sen- 
timents, and I’m glad you are giving the matter some 
thought; keep on thinking. What the subject needs 
more than anything else is intelligent study on both 
sides. By-and-by we shall find the true solution,” 
said Frazier. “Are you taking much interest in the 
municipal campaign?” he asked, turning the subject, 
for he did not care to discuss a matter upon which 
he knew they could not possibly come to an agree- 
ment, and he was too forbearing of the old gentle- 
man’s feelings to disagree with him too plainly. 

“Wa’al, I’m watchin’ on’t, as an outsider. I’m 
a Republican, I am. I’m with the party that freed 


THE PRINCIPLE 


133 


the black man, that put on a tariff ter protect Amer- 
ican manerfacters, and thet hes alius ben agin the 
Tom-fool states rights doctrine. States rights are 
alius well enough until there comes a state wrong, 
and then yer want a good strong gover’ment to right 
it. But I’ll tell yer fer a fact, I don’t think much 
of this man, Percy Piggott. He’s fer Piggott and 
alius has ben. I’ve known him ever sence he’s so 
high. I know how he got his money — every dol- 
lar on’t. Now I don’t care a d ’scuse my swear- 

in’, Mr. Editor, I sometimes do when I’m riled — 
how mean a man is if he only does as he agrees. 
Piggott don’t do that. Howsumever, I s’pose I 
shall hev to vote fer him; I hevn’t bolted a Repub- 
lican candidate fer forty-five year’, and I’m too old 
to begin now. But it goes agin the grain, I tell ye. 
As fer the mayerlty contest, I can’t stand that aner- 
chist Rolka, even if Furman isn’t sech a heavy 
weight. It would be an everlastin’ disgrace to hev 
this good old city ruled by one o’ them fellers.” 

“But, Mr. Huntington-, Rolka isn’t an anarchist; 
he has quite as keen a sense of justice and right as 
you have. He is a believer in law and order. He 
is an honest and hard-working man, and his habits 
and character are of the very best. He has been 
a student of government and of economics for years, 
and all his efforts are directed towards a wider diffu- 
sion of moderate welfare. You misjudge him.” 


134 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


“Wa’al, I may misjedge him, but I don’t misjedge 
the good fer nothin’ crowd he has around him. Ye 
can tell suthin’ ’bout a man by the company he 
keeps.” 

“Very true; but they said the crowd was good-for- 
nothing that wanted to throw off the British yoke in 
colonial times,” was Frazier’s reply, “and they stig- 
matized the crowd that wanted to stamp out human 
slavery in the same fashion. You know how they 
vilified Whittier and Garrison and poor old John 
Brown. That was when you were a young man, 
I believe.” 

“Yes, it wuz. But I don’t believe they wuz of 
the same breed as these agertaters today. They’re 

a lot of furriners who bring over a lot of d d 

(there I’ve sworn agin) nonsense.” 

“Never mind the swearing; I swear myself some- 
times, and often feel like it when I don’t, which is 
perhaps just as bad,” said Frazier. “But I presume 
we can’t settle that question here and now. So why 
should we discuss it. But it is well enough to re- 
member that if we go back far enough, we are all 
foreigners. It’s the man and the principles that we 
should consider, and not the nationality.” 

“Certin, certin; my granther came from Ireland, 
and my granmother was a Canuck. But that’s not 
the breed we git here now — them Poles and Van- 
dals and Huns, and whatever ye call ’em.” 


THE OFFER 


135 


“Possibly our ancestors may not have been so 
different from the present immigrants, Mr. Hunting- 
ton. Time and distance make great changes in the 
perspective. But let us change the subject. How 
are things out at the farm? I hear you can now 
cut some of it into city lots. The city seems to be 
extending rapidly out your way.” 

“Yes; an’ that’s what I cum to talk to ye about. 
I understan’ ye need some money to pay off that 
mortgage. Now I can sell off five acres today to 
Jim Ashbell — beats all how that man is buyin’ up 
things — fer a thousan’ dollars an acre, an’ ef ye say 
so. I’ll do it and let ye hev the money. Ef ye can 
git five thousan’ more, ye can pay the mortgage and 
stop the sale tomorrer. Ashbell would pay in an 
hour ef I asked him ; he’s wuth two millions, but no 
one gits a dollar on’t unless he sees two cornin’ 
back.” 

“Why, you are very kind, Mr. Huntington, but 
I am afraid I should not be warranted in doing it. 
I might not run the Review to please you, and then 
you’d be sorry you did me the favor.” 

“Now don’t ye have any fear of that, young man. 
I don’t expect every one is goin’ ter agree with me. 
When we all git ter agreein’ in this world, ’twill be 
a pooty dead place ter live in. I don’t care whether 
yer agree with me or not. Do jest what ye think’s 
right. That’s all I want of any one.” 


36 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Frazier knew that the five thousand dollars would 
be of little use, for he had no idea where he could 
get the balance at that late period, but he did not 
care to admit the whole truth to Uncle Ben. So 
he thanked him warmly, telling him that no doubt 
the matter would turn out in some way so he might 
save his property, but if it did not he should lose no 
sleep over it. He was a young man, he said, and 
the world was yet largely before him. If it was 
sold, perhaps it was all for the best. 

“Wa’al, ye know yer own business,” said Uncle 
Ben finally, “but ef Percy Piggott gits hold of that 
paper I sha’n’t want ter read it any more. I sha’n’t 
know whether I’m readin’ a lie or the truth. An’ 
my wife sez she won’t tech it with the tongs ef he 
gits ter be editur.” 

Frazier grasped his hand warmly as he arose to 

go* 

“There’s not much reason for fear of anarchy or 
pessimism so long as there are such men as you in 
the world,” said he. “I shall not soon forget your 
friendly feelings and offer.” 

No one in the Review office worked with any en- 
thusiasm that day, for although Donald was the 
only one who knew the exact condition of affairs, 
they all had a conjecture or suspicion that Frazier 
had been unable to raise the money and that the 
paper was about to pass into new hands. Donald 


THE KEEPER 


137 


worked at the books mechanically, occasionally look- 
ing out of the window abstractedly. The keeper 
sat back in an easy chair, reading. 

“Wa’al, I s’pose the thing is ter be sold termor- 
rer,” said he to Donald. “Wonder who’ll bid on 
it ’cept Piggott. They say he’ll only run it up high 
as the mortgage, but I’ll bet he will, rather than let 
Frazier buy it in. He don’t mind him gettin’ a little 
suthin’ out on’t, but he’s awful ’frald of what he 
might write ’bout him if he should keep on runnin’ 
on’t.” 

“Possibly that may be so,” was Donald’s quiet 
reply. 



CHAPTER XV 

We never know what awaits us just around the corner. — O ld 
Proverb. 

It was the morning of the foreclosure sale. 
Frazier walked into the office rather late. The city 
editor and reporters were working busily as usual, 
but Frazier had done nothing toward writing his 
editorials for the day. 

“Good morning, Donald,” said he abstractedly. 
“This is the day of judgment, and I don’t know why 
I should carry my work over beyond the crack of 
doom. I’ll let some one else write to-day’s edi- 
torials; Mr. Piggott, perhaps. Probably he has 
some already prepared.” 

“I have no heart to do anything, either,” said 
Donald. “I have got the books pretty well straight- 
ened out and we will begin at once to collect the bills 
up to date. There must be nearly a thousand dol- 
lars more receivable than payable, so you won’t be 
quite strapped,” he added with a smile. 

He took out his watch. It was five minutes of 
nine, and a minute later there entered the office the 
deputy sheriff with Mr. Piggott and his attorney. 
They marched in single file, opened the composing 
room door, each looked out, drew back, closed it and 
139 


140 


JVHATS HE TO MEf 


arranged themselves in a row on one side of the of- 
fice. The sheriff took out his watch. 

“Nine o’clock, I believe the sale is to take place,’’ 
said he. “Nobody here. Well, I suppose there 
won’t be many bidders.” 

Then he drew the notice of the foreclosure from 
his pocket and taking a step forward began to read 
it in school boy fashion. The affair seemed some- 
thing like a funeral. Frazier sat in his den reading 
and apparently unconcerned as to the outcome, as in- 
deed he had really become. 

After the sheriff had finished, he looked at Pig- 
gott and his attorney. 

“Had we better wait a few minutes?” said he. 
“My watch is right, but it don’t look as if there 
would be any bidders but you,” turning to Mr. Pig- 
gott. “The terms of this sale,” said he, to no one 
in particular, “are $10,000 cash, the balance on such 
terms as may be arranged with the owner.” 

Just as he was speaking a district messenger tele- 
graph boy came rushing into the office and handed a 
letter to Donald. 

“How much am I offered for the plant and good 
will of the Evening Review?” said the sheriff. 

Donald was reading a note. 

“How much!” 

“Ten thousand dollars,” said Mr. Piggott, in a 
rather low tone. 


THE AUCTION 


141 

“I am offered $10,000. Who will give $i 1,000?” 

“Eleven thousand I” 

The little gathering turned around to see where 
the bid came from. 

“Eleven thousand !” The bid was repeated. The 
voice was that of Gordon Donald. Frazier rose 
from his seat in the den and appeared at the door. 
There was a slight flush on Donald’s face. 

“Perhaps I haven’t quite made it clear,” said the 
sheriff. “The terms of this sale are $10,000 cash in 
hand, and the balance at such time as may be ar- 
ranged by the purchaser with the owner.” 

He stopped as if expecting some reply, but none 
came. Then he went on: “I am offered $11,000, 
who says twelve?” 

“Twelve!” said Piggott, firmly. 

“Twelve Pm offered. Let me hear thirteen,” 
said the sheriff. 

“Fifteen thousand dollars!” Again it was the 
voice of Donald. 

He had arisen from his chair and stood looking 
at the sheriff with a smile. 

“Why, Don, what are you doing?” asked Frazier. 

“Never mind,” said Don; “let the sale go on.” 

Mr. Piggott turned to Donald and then back to 
the auctioneer. He hardly knew what to do. He 
evidently thought that Frazier had in some way suc- 
ceeded in getting the loan and he did not care to run 


142 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


the property up unnecessarily, but yet he dreaded to 
have it fall back into his enemy’s hands. He pre- 
ferred rather to pay more than it was worth to him, 
even if the advantage in a financial way accrued to 
Frazier, than to have him purchase it, so he added 
another thousand dollars to the bidding. 

Donald immediately bid two thousand dollars 
more and here the bidding ceased, Mr. Piggott evi- 
dently not caring to advance the price further. 

“Sold, for $18,000 to — who’s the purchaser, Mr. 
Donald — buying it for yourself?” asked the deputy 
sheriff. 

“Harold Frazier.” Donald’s face was wreathed 
in smiles as he spoke. Piggott looked crestfallen. 
The sheriff looked surprised. 

“Now Mr. Donald,” he added quickly, “I sup- 
pose you are prepared with the necessary funds.” 

“Yes,” was the reply. “Here is a cashier’s check 
for $10,000 on the First National Bank. I believe 
this satisfies your claim, Mr. Piggott.” 

“Wh-ere — did — you — get — the — money ?” almost 
gasped Piggott. 

“Never mind,” replied Donald, smiling again. 
“As long as you have it, I presume you are satisfied.” 

The check was passed over and Mr. Piggott and 
the sheriff both examined it carefully, turning it over 
in surprise. It was a cashier’s check payable to 
bearer, and there was thus no clue to its source. 


THE MYSTERY 


143 


Frazier stood like one transfixed. He could not 
possibly have been more astonished. With the re- 
mark that their business was now over, and dis- 
charging the sheriff’s keeper, the party quickly with- 
drew, possibly somewhat crestfallen, leaving Frazier 
and Donald alone in the business office. 

“Where under the sun did you get it?” said 
Frazier to Donald, referring to the check, as soon 
as the door closed. 

“That I must not say. I have been enjoined to 
secrecy. The Review is not mine; it is yours. You 
can pay the amount, which is a loan — and no security 
or note is asked for or wanted — when you become 
able. These are my instructions. I wish I could 
tell you more but I can’t.” 

“But Don, old fellow, you are at the bottom of 
all this. I know it. You have made a terrible sac- 
rifice in some way or induced some one else to. I 
shall immediately deed the property over to you and 
hereafter you shall be the employer and I the em- 
ployed. That is just as it should be, and just as it 
always ought to have been, I am afraid. Of course 
I am delighted, old fellow, to have it turn out this 
way and you will find that I shall work for you as 
faithfully and well as you have worked for me.” 

“Nothing of the sort, Frazier. The facts are ab- 
solutely as I have stated. I could not have them 
different if I would and I would not if I could. I 


144 


n^HATS HE TO MEf 


was instructed to bid the paper off for you, and I 
have done so. Things will go on just as they have, 
the only difference being that the muzzle has been 
taken from the Review and you can write absolutely 
as you feel. I am just as overjoyed as you are, but 
I want to tell you that I don’t deserve the slightest 
credit for any of it.” 

Meantime Piggott and the sheriff had walked on 
down the street. 

“Any idea how they got the money?” remarked 
Piggott to the sheriff. 

“Well, no; not exactly. But I wouldn’t be sur- 
prised if that fellow Frazier didn’t have it all the 
time. He’s a queer duck. I noticed that it didn’t 
seem to trouble him much when I served the fore- 
closure papers.” 

“O, pshaw! He never had 10,000 cents,” ex- 
claimed Piggott. “And he’s the biggest rascal in 
this town. But I’ll get even with him. I’ll have a 
paper of my own inside of six months, and run him 
out of town. I haven’t got through with that fellow 
yet.” 

The news of the outcome of the sale spread 
quickly over the city. It was generally thought that 
Fraizer had secured the loan from some friend out 
of town and that his expressions of doubt all along 
that he would not be able to raise the sum and retain 
the Review were merely a cunning concealment, per- 


THE FREEDOM 


145 


haps to annoy Piggott. Many purchased copies of 
the Review that night expecting that Piggott would 
be lampooned or attacked in its editorial columns. 
But nothing of the sort was done. There was 
merely a short account of the sale in the news col- 
umns of the Review, covering the fact that it had 
been retained in the hands of the former owner, who 
had satisfied the mortgage, and that hereafter it 
would be conducted as it had been previously, with- 
out any special editorial or other change, except to 
make it more influential and useful, if possible. 

“I confess I feel in high spirits to be free and 
write as I feel,” said Frazier to Donald, “and there 
is a slight temptation to make some satirical com- 
ments. But that would be unwise. It was bad 
enough to have been muzzled for a while, but it 
would be humiliating to confess it. Besides I wrote 
nothing that my conscience did not in a way approve 
when Piggott held the mortgage, and I do not intend 
to do so now. We have a right to refrain from 
speaking or writing what we feel, but no right to ex- 
press that which we don’t feel; that sin is in the 
commission only. The little clique of mammon- 
worshipping politicians have accused me of prejudice 
and partisan feeling; I don’t intend to give them any 
chance to do so justly.” 

“I’m glad of that,” said Donald. “The rank and 
file of the Republicans arc actuated by a desire to ad- 


146 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


vance the public welfare, and so are the Democrats, 
for that matter. It’s only the self-seeking leaders — 
the bosses of both parties — that make the mischief.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


Yet a little while and we shall all meet There, and our Mother’s 
bosom will screen us all; and Oppression’s harness, and Sorrow’s 
fire-whip, and all the Gehenna ba.iliffa that patrol and inhabit ever- 
vexed Time, cannot henceforth harm us any more. — Carlyle. 

There was a great municipal campaign meeting of 
labor reformers and some Democrats in the city hall. 
Men crowded the seats and aisles to the doors. 
The audience was an uncouth and a rugged one. It 
was made up almost entirely of the toilers and the 
moilers — the drudgers and the sweaters — of the city. 
A close observer could distinguish each trade or oc- 
cupation represented by some symbol or figure, fea- 
ture or attire. There was the smell of oily cotton 
or wool, and this betokened the mill worker. The 
white splashes on coarse footwear indicated the 
plasterer or bricklayer. The brown hardened hands 
denoted the out-door laborer. I'he blackened 
hands with greasy faces revealed the foundry work- 
ers. There were even a few printers represented 
by their long slender fingers and pale cheeks. A 
good many foreigners were present with their thick 
hair and unshaven faces. Here and there a woman 
— some wife, mother or sweetheart — with just the 
merest touch of cheap adornment in her attire. 
147 


148 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


There were a half-dozen or so on the platform — 
heads of the labor organizations, Gustavus Rolka, 
candidate for mayor, and a clergyman who had 
shown some interest in the cause of labor’s better- 
ment. ^ ^ 

The chairman rapped loudly with his fist on the 
table in the center of the platform for order, and 
announced that the meeting would be opened with 
singing by a male quartet. Four men marched 
awkwardly to the front of the stage. One wore a 
frock coat, two had sack coats and one was clothed 
in a cutaway. Their rich but uncultivated voices 
rang through the hall with a song, the close of each 
stanza of which was : 

“We stand united, whatever our fate. 

And we toil all day both early and late. 

Our homes we love ; in God we trust — 

We ask fair wages, and have them we must.” 

When the roar of applause that greeted the song 
had died away and it had been repeated by a great 
cry of “More! Morel” the chairman made a few 
remarks relative to the issues of the campaign, and 
briefly introduced Gustavus Rolka, candidate for 
mayor. ' 

Rolka rose awkwardly and began his address in 
a low and somewhat halting tone. His face was 
deathly pale and his form was like a reed, thin and 


THE EMANCIPATOR 


149 


shaking. He could not at first be heard half the 
length of the hall. There were cries of “Louder !” 
Rolka raised his voice with an effort. He began by 
expressing a doubt of his election ; the forces ar- 
rayed against the toilers were too powerful and well 
organized, he said. He also stated that even if 
elected under the existing city charter and the laws 
of the state and nation, he could do little in behalf 
of the people. But he said the nomination would 
afford him the opportunity to tell the masses some 
needed truths, for what they required more than any- 
thing else was a quickening sense of their own power, 
responsibility and duty. He wanted to see the 
working classes use their political power in their own 
interests. 

“The means of an ample and absolute redress of 
every wrong is within your own hands,” continued 
he. “Labor is just awakening to a realization of its 
own strength. Until recently it has been the mock 
and sport of the two old parties, but the time ap- 
proaches when the aroused giant will put forth his 
long wasted energies and level to the dust the strong- 
holds of oppression.” 

He became more earnest and more eloquent as he 
progressed, reciting the wrongs of the workers and 
especially of the little children toiling long hours in 
the local mills. The audience listened eagerly and 
earnestly. It was plain to see that he was making 


150 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


a deep impression. He had spoken nearly an hour 
upon local and general issues when suddenly he was 
seen to reel and sink into a chair. Instantly some 
one sprang to his side. He was gasping for breath. 

“What is the matter?” was asked. 

He made no reply. He was carried from the 
stage to an ante-room and put upon a sofa, while a 
doctor had been hastily summoned. As soon as he 
arrived he placed his hand upon his heart. 

“Poor fellow ! he is dead,” was his quiet comment. 

It was true. The honest heart that beat for his 
fellowmen was still; the misshapen hands that had 
known naught but toil from the cradle were at last 
at rest. 

But what of it? That which we call life is but a 
journey to death, and what we call death is a pass- 
port to life. 

Rolka now had the peace he needed, with sleep 
and immortality. 

Meantime the waiting audience had been in- 
formed what had occurred and had quietly and 
slowly left the hall, but their remarks were signifi- 
cant and touching : 

“A martyr.” 

“Wore himself out in the mill and was not strong 
enough to speak.” 


THE MARTYR 


151 

“We’ve lost our best friend.” 

* ♦ ♦ ♦ 3|C 

“Killed by small pay and hard work.” 

* ♦ * * Jd ♦ 

“Wonder who’ll take his place on the ticket.” 

“This ought to strengthen us and make us all pull 
together.” 

♦ ♦ ♦ 4: 

“The best speech I ever heard.” 

♦ 

“His poor wife and children, what will they do?” 

♦ Jd ♦ 5){ * 

Frazier caught the sob of sympathy in the wom- 
an’s voice at his elbow. He turned to look at her. 
She was evidently a hard worked woman, as her 
bent form and seamed face indicated. Frazier 
noted that her honest eyes were full of tears and that 
a widow’s cap rested on her iron gray hair. Mrs. 
Rolka’s rapt adoration of her husband at Miss Col- 
ton’s dinner table not long before instantly recurred 
to his memory. Who would tell her? She ought 
to have the terrible blow softened as much as pos- 
sible. He turned to the woman who had spoken. 

“Are you acquainted with Mrs. Rolka?” he 
asked. 

“No, sir,” she answered, “but me own man was 
caught in the machinery of the mill last winter, and 


152 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


the first I knew was the men bringing him home. I 
know how the poor woman will feel.” 

“Couldn’t you go and break the news to her at 
once?” asked Frazier. 

“Sure, it’s no place for a sthranger,” she respond- 
ed. “I’d be doing it in a minute, but at such a time, 
it’s her best friends a woman wants near her.” 

Frazier’s next thought was of Miss Colton. He 
looked at his watch. It was but a step to her home. 
The coroner would be there in a minute and pos- 
sibly some thoughtless person might rush to inform 
Mrs. Rolka of the calamity at once. He dashed 
over to Miss Colton’s house. She came to the door 
herself. 

“Why, Mr. Frazier, what is the matter?” she 
asked, as the light from the hall fell on his white 
and excited face. The shock had greatly affected 
him. 

“Rolka is dead!” 

“What — not assassinated?” she gasped. 

“No, not so bad as that. A simple case of heart 
failure. The strain was too great. He tried to do 
too much. His soul was too large for his body.” 

“It will kill his poor wife.” 

“That is what I came to speak about. There was 
naturally great excitement in the hall, although it 
was suppressed and controlled. In a few minutes 
the news will be all over town, and I fear lest some 


THE MISSION 


153 


one break the news to her too abruptly. Can’t you 
go over there at once?” 

“Yes, I’ll do the best I can,” she answered. “But 
I am afraid I shall not be able to break the force of 
a blow like this. worshipped Mr. Rolka even 

more than most devjj^ed wives.” 

Even as she was Speaking, Miss Colton had put 
on her jacket and hat and the two started for Rolka’s 
home at a rapid pace. Hardly a word passed be- 
tween them, the shock to both being too great to ad- 
mit of con^rsation on trivial subjects. 

A light was burning in the front room of the tene- 
ment when they reached the house. Frazier did not 
go in. He left Vera at the door. 

“I’ll come back for you a little later,” he said. 

Vera knocked, but as there was no answer, she 
opened the door and went in. Mrs. Rolka came in 
from the bed room where the Children were asleep. 
She started at the sight of Vera and something in 
her face made her clutch the wall for support. 

“There’s nothing the matter with Gustavus, is 
there. Miss Colton? Has anything happened? He 
got through his speech all right, didn’t he ? He was 
so nervous to-night, I tried to coax him to take a bit 
of a stimulant before he went out.” 

“Although I did not hear the address, many said 
it was the best speech they ever heard.” 

A glow of pride passed over Mrs. Rolka’s face. 


154 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


and in the next breath she said: “He’s sick, I know 
it from your face.” 

“No, he’s not sick, Mrs. Rolka. He is free and 
happy ” 

“Oh, God I Not thatl Not that!” and with a cry, 
Mrs. Rolka fell in a faint on the floor. 

Vera unloosed her dress and made her physically 
comfortable but did not at once apply the restora- 
tives she knew so well how to administer. Perhaps 
nature in her wisdom would bring relief in these mo- 
ments of unconsciousness. When at last Mrs. Rolka 
opened her eyes, Vera’s heart ached with the anguish 
which was beyond her power to comfort. The be- 
reft woman stared blankly before her and seemed 
totally unconscious of Miss Colton’s presence. 

After a while the fragile body of her husband was 
brought in and laid tenderly on the bed. Tears 
were streaming from the eyes of the men as they of- 
fered further services, but Mrs. Rolka apparently 
saw nothing, heard nothing. Frazier came to 
Vera’s side. 

“I am going to stay,” she whispered. “The poor 
thing is simply crushed.” 

“I was afraid you would feel you must,” said 
Frazier, “and I brought a woman with me. I don’t 
know her, but she is a tenderhearted soul and has 
been through a somewhat similar experience herself. 
She may help you.” 


THE ANGUISH 


155 


Frazier turned to the sympathetic Irish woman 
with whom he had spoken just after Rolka’s death. 

“Poor dear,” she crooned, “didn’t I lose me own 
man last winter just as suddint. Think of the chil- 
der, Mrs. Rolka. Ye’ve got them.” 

Still no change in the set, unseeing stare. 

“Sure, there’s nothin’ to be said in the way of com- 
fort, when your man is taken quick from ye like a 
flash,” she said to Vera. “It seems as if the whole 
earth had come out from under ye. I’ve seen many 
a poor creathure like her. Friends will try to com- 
fort ye, and the priest will tell ye his soul is saved, 
but sure that’s no help. Most of us wimmen would 
be willin’ to suffer the pangs of Hell just to have him 
back once more wid us.” 

Then she tiptoed into the bedroom and brought 
from his crib the baby — the tiny boy that had his 
father’s eyes and bore his father’s name. Mrs. Mc- 
Guire laid the small bundle in Mrs. Rolka’s arms. 

“I thought that wud fetch her,” said Mrs. Mc- 
Guire, as Mrs. Rolka with a convulsive shudder, 
snatched the child to her breast and sobbed aloud. 

The relief of tears came at last. 


/ 


CHAPTER XVII 


(Give, but, if possible, spare the poor man the shame of holding 
out the hand. — Diderot. 

The tragic end of Rolka shut the floodgates of 
slander and vilification as far as he was personally 
concerned, although the campaign was extremely 
heated. Even the opposition newspaper, the Morn- 
ing Gazette, which had not hesitated to call him a 
dangerous man to whom to entrust the affairs of the 
city, spoke kindly of him the next day and had words 
of condolence for his bereaved widow and family. 
The Review went further and said that a noble and 
self-sacrificing man had passed away — one whose 
heart-beats had been for the welfare of his fellow- 
men. It paid a high tribute to his honesty and 
honor and stated that few were better posted in 
political economy and sociology. There was a 
funeral — larger than that which marks the death of 
any but the most honored citizen — and then the 
thoughts of all were turned toward the living. But 
Frazier soon learned of the destitution of Mrs. Rol- 
ka and her children and was not satisfied. 

“What do you say, Don,” said he to the book- 
keeper, when they were alone in the office, “to the 
idea of taking up a subscription for Mrs. Rolka? I 
157 


JVHATS HE TO MEf 


158 

believe the people of this city would give liberally to 
such a purpose if they were only made acquainted 
with its necessity. The Review can afford to head 
it with $100, can’t it?” 

“Why, certainly, we ought to be glad to do it, but 
perhaps starting the thing out with such a large sum 
might prevent others from coming in who could only 
give a little,” said Don. 

“Well, I think I can fix that. I will write some- 
thing at once and try to make it plain enough that 
the good deed is not in the size of the gift but in the 
sacrifice. That is a truth that can not be too gen- 
erally enforced in these times, when there is so much 
praise of big gifts that often require no sacrifice 
whatever.” 

Frazier went immediately into his den and pre- 
pared the following, which appeared in the next is- 
sue of the Review: 

“THE LATE GUSTAVUS ROLKA.” 

“The public may not be fully aware that by the sudden death of 
the late candidate for mayor, Mr. Gustavus Rolka, his family, con- 
sisting of a widow and three young children, is left in extremely 
straightened circumstances. They reside in a hired tenement, and 
Mr. Rolka left absolutely nothing beyond his household goods and 
a few dollars which will barely keep the family in food and cloth- 
ing for a few weeks. Although the deceased was industrious and 
constantly employed, his hand was always extended to help the 
destitute wherever he found them. He was known in one instance 
to have literally taken his coat from his back and put it upon a 
poor shivering unfortunate fellow-man, and it was entirely to 
this unbounded sympathy that his poverty was due. With these 
facts in view, it has been suggested that the generous public of this 


THE CONTRIBUTOR 


159 


city would be glad to contribute according to their means to put his 
family beyond the reach of immediate want. The Review takes 
pleasure in heading a subscription list with $100 for this purpose. 
It, however, indulges in the hope that the list may be a long one, 
with a good many small sums rather than a few somewhat large 
ones. ^ Let it not be forgotten that the test of that trait which forms 
the highest characteristic and noblest feature of Christianity is not 
the size of the subscription, but rather the spirit which prompts it 
and the sacrifices which attend it.” 

The day following subscriptions poured in far 
more abundantly than Frazier had dared hope for. 
Denny McGrath called and placed fifty dollars be- 
fore Donald, with the remark: 

“Let that go to poor Rolka’s widow. She will 
be in nade of It enough this time next year with no 
way to earn a cint. An’ ye needn’t put my name to 
it. Put ‘Cash’ or ‘A Friend’ — or anything. I 
don’t care to let it be known that I am Inclined to 
give in this way an’ hev ivery dommed society and 
scalawag in the city running after me for to give 
something on a subscription.” 

Encouraged by the success of the movement, 
Frazier himself made some personal solicitations 
among the business men of the town. Even James 
Ashbell sent a check for $ioo, although some said it 
was done more from policy than from philanthropy. 
But be this as it may, money came rolling in rapidly. 
Frazier called upon Julius Cohen and suggested that 
as the Jews were more ready than any race on earth 
to look after the unfortunate, he knew that to merely 


i 6 o WHATS HE TO ME? 

ask was to receive. Mr. Cohen was persuaded to 
make a generous subscription. Indeed the list grew 
so rapidly that among the prominent business men, 
the omission of a name was more noticeable than a 
subscription itself. Before the list was closed even 
Mr. Bailey and Frederick Boucher called at the Re- 
view office and left contributions. The former said: 

“I see you have started a subscription for Gusta- 
vus Rolka’s family. Although I have always claim- 
ed that if a man had his health he ought to be fore- 
handed enough to lay something by, yet when any- 
thing of this kind comes up, if you don’t give, people 
say you’re stingy. But I sometimes think the more 
you give, the more you’re obliged to. Why, last 
year, I gave mighty near twenty-five dollars to for- 
eign missions alone and almost as much more to 
home missions, besides what I gave to the regular 
church expenses. I suppose it is well enough, for I 
own a good many tenements and you’ve no idea how 
the workers at the mill notice sech things. It’s best 
to keep on the good side of the public so I made up 
my mind that I’d put down ten dollars.” 

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Bailey,” said Fra- 
zier. “I have been agreeably impressed by the 
generosity on the part of the public in this matter. 
We have already got more than $1,200 and with the 
benefit entertainment which is to be given later, wc 


THE WIDOW 


i6i 


hope to get as much more. Shall I put your sub- 
scription down to the name of William Bailey?” 

“William R. Bailey, or — as there is another Wil- 
liam R. Bailey in town — you’d better put it down 
William Rufus Bailey, an’ then there won’t be any 
mistake about it.” 

When the subscription was closed, with feet and 
heart never so light, Frazier took the money down to 
Mrs. Rolka’s little home. Miss Colton was with 
her when Frazier entered the room. He did not 
make a speech but bestowed the gift quickly and 
without formality, merely remarking that the money 
was a spontaneous and willing tribute from her hus- 
band’s friends and fellow-citizens in recognition of 
his high character and sterling worth. 

Mrs. Rolka was evidently much overcome but she 
expressed her thanks with simple dignity. When 
Frazier had gone, she turned to Vera, and with 
mingled gratitude and bitterness in her voice, said: 

“Oh, if he had only known of this before he 
passed away. Had they only shown a little of the 
sympathy and kindness before, poor Gustavus would 
still be with me. It was because he felt that the peo- 
ple doubted his unselfishness and hated the things he 
believed that made it so hard for him to get up and 
make a speech in a public meeting. It was a terrible 
strain and it was this that killed him. Why couldn’t 


i 62 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


they have been good to him while he was living in- 
stead of to me now?” 

“Ah, but that is the way of the world. You are 
a very fortunate woman because you have no spect- 
ers of hasty words or neglected duties to haunt you 
with reproaches, as is the case in some instances, 
with many who failed while their dear ones were 
with them. I wish you would bring the children and 
come home with me and stay until you feel stronger.” 

“Thank you. Miss Colton. I know you really 
mean it, but I can’t leave here. I have lived right 
in this tenement ever since Anna was born and she is 
seven now. I have come to love the very boards in 
the floor. It seems a very plain little home to you, 
but everything in it is associated with Gustavus. I 
couldn’t bear to move one of his books there in the 
shelves over his desk, much less the desk itself. He 
was a whole year saving up for that, for he always 
put his own desires and wants last of all. I was 
first, then the children. I have left his clothes hang- 
ing in the closet just as they were, and when it seems 
as if I couldn’t bear it any longer, I just bury my 
face in his coat and it seems to comfort me. At 
night when I wake up in the familiar room, for a 
minute I forget that he is gone forever. I can never 
be really happy again, but I can stand it better to 
stay right here and go right along just as I have 
done. It’s wicked to say it, but I could have lost all 


THE NEPENTHE 163 

the children sooner than him. Few mothers feel 
that way, but he was pretty near my idea of God. 
Perhaps that’s why I had to give him up. I’m 
grateful to everyone, but no one can help me. I 
must bear it somehow. If I could have known what 
that night was to bring, just so I could have said 
good-bye to him.” 

And Vera, who had been face to face with death 
many times and had seen sorrow in many forms, was 
helpless before this great grief. How could she 
make her feel that this trouble was the beginning of 
a greater faith and a stronger love — a love that 
would grow deeper and knit closer all through the 
long lonely years that were to come? Those who 
lose their dear ones by death may be objects of pity; 
but those who have seen the love they trusted die by 
neglect, their ideal turn to clay, the radiant vision 
fade into gray shadows and finally into black blank- 
ness — that is the real bereavement. 


\ 


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'■ ' > '■ ■ ' . , . ■ . 
r • > ■- • y 


CHAPTER XVin 

Politic! is a deleterious profession, like some poisonous handi- 
crafts. — Emerson. 

It was Wednesday, and the election was to come 
the following Tuesday. Little time was left for the 
choice of a candidate to fill the vacancy in the ticket 
caused by the death of poor Rolka. The joint com- 
mittee of the labor reformers and the Democrats 
met that evening with the power to name a candidate. 
A discussion of the various men was held, but none 
seemed available. Finally, some one arose and sug- 
gested the name of Harold Frazier, editor of the 
Review. There was some objection. 

“Why, Mr. Frazier has only been in the city about 
a year, and he will cast his first vote in the city at the 
coming election,” replied one of the speakers. “Be- 
sides, who knows anything about his politics? Is 
he a Republican, a Mugwump, a Democrat or a 
labor reformer?” he continued. “Flis paper has 
been fair. I’ll admit, to our ticket, but it has shown 
us no special favors any more than it has to our 
opponent. We want a man at the head of the ticket 
and to take the place of poor Rolka whom we know 
is with us and is not lukewarm.” 

“But peculiar and unusual conditions require un- 
165 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


1 66 

usual actions,” was the reply. “Isn’t the fact that 
Piggott foreclosed the mortgage on his paper proof 
that the opposition hates him? He is at least fair, 
and I think we already know where to find him. 
The fact that he is a newcomer is also an advantage. 
There is too much jealousy and animosity among the 
old-timers; they seem to enjoy knifing. Let’s nomi- 
nate Frazier, sink or swim.” 

“Will he take it? Does he want the nomination? 
Has anybody seen him?” was asked. 

No one had, and a committee was immediately 
chosen by the chair to wait upon him and ask if he 
would fill the vacancy made by the death of poor 
Rolka. Frazier was found in his office writing for 
the next day’s Review. When the committee an- 
nounced its mission he was astonished. First he 
called to mind the fact that he was a newcomer and 
comparatively unknown. “But, gentlemen,” said he, 
“there is another reason and a stronger one why you 
should not put me on your ticket. I am not in sym- 
pathy with much that your constituents say and some 
that they do. I have always been a Republican as 
was my father before me. It is only recently that 
I have begun to feel the shortcomings of both the old 
parties in treating present industrial problems. But 
social regeneration is not to be accomplished by any 
one man or generation of men. It will be a work 
of slow and gradual accomplishment. It’s an uphill 


THE NOMINEE 


167 

process, and the man who is elected mayor of the 
city can do little. However, it might be a step in 
the right direction, and as for that, party politics has 
no place in municipal affairs. There is neither a 
Republican nor a Democratic way of laying a sewer, 
building a school house or putting out a fire; there’s 
just the right way. But, gentlemen, if you are ‘in a 
hole,’ so to speak, and can’t get out, why. I’ll accept 
the nomination. I may as well be a martyr as any 
one else; yet you’d best get some other man.” 

“That settles it,” replied the chairman of the com- 
mittee. “You have said enough; we’ll go back to 
the meeting and report. I’m quite sure you will be 
nominated, and if you’ll wait here for perhaps a half 
hour, we will doubtless return to inform you of your 
selection, and we can then settle up the whole busi- 
ness to-night. There’s no time to lose, with the elec- 
tion coming next Tuesday.” 

Frazier did not quite fancy the idea, partly on ac- 
count of lack of time to give to the campaign, and 
in part for the reasons he had given the committee. 
But before eleven o’clock that evening he was in- 
formed of his unanimous selection to head the ticket. 

The political campaign had made Frazier an ex- 
tremely busy man for the past three or four days, 
and he had not the opportunity to give the Review 
its usual attention. And now that he had become 
a candidate for mayor, he was besieged by politi- 


i68 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


dans, “Heelers,” and others on all sorts of missions 
and with all sorts of queries. Some of them were 
anxious to know what he would do, if he were elect- 
ed, concerning appointments. Many of them pro- 
fessed great political influence and set forth with dis- 
interested earnestness how many votes they could 
control in their district or ward, provided they could 
secure a little money “to buy cigars or beer, an’ get 
’em to feelin’ good.” Others felt positive they could 
deliver over voters in blocks, provided Frazier would 
promise to appoint this man to office or refrain from 
appointing that one. To all such appeals he turned 
a deaf ear. 

“I may not get many votes,” said he, “but as 
many as I do will have to come to me without any 
promises whatever, except as I have made them in 
the brief statement that has already been published 
in the papers. I do not wish voters to be cajoled or 
wheedled into supporting me. The nomination was 
not of my seeking and I accepted it reluctantly. I 
went into the campaign a free man and I will come 
out of it the same way, no matter what the result 
may be.” 

He expressed these views to Donald, who said 
they did him credit. 

“I am not so sure but that your election would be 
the worst thing that could happen to you,” he said. 
“You would be obliged to neglect the Review, if you 


THE INCREASE 


169 

attended to your duties as mayor, and it seems to me 
that you can be of more use to the community right 
where you are than as chief magistrate of the city.” 

“You are quite right, Don, but I don’t think either 
of us need give ourselves any uneasiness. I only 
want a fair expression of the feelings of the voters 
at the polls next Tuesday. And you are quite right 
about the Review. Why, I have not been down into 
the press room for a week. By the way, how is the 
circulation these days? Seems to me that it is in- 
creasing rapidly. At any rate, I see the Review be- 
ing read more in public places and I notice the ad- 
vertising is on the increase.” 

“Yes, it’s crawling up fast. We are printing 600 
a day more than we were a month ago, and there is 
a slight increase in every issue. We needn’t be 
afraid any longer of our neighbor, the drygoods 
man. He can get his cashier to tick off the press 
vibrations if he likes to without any misgivings on 
our part. By the way, he called in the day before 
yesterday and got our prices for ten inches, double 
column for a year, so I think he wouldn’t treat you 
quite so cavalierly as he did the last time. And did 
you know that Hoppin, the landlord, came in the 
other day and said he would be glad to put in those 
larger windows so as to make more light in the com- 
posing room? I wonder if that old adage to the 
effect that rejoicing in the prosperity of another is 


170 WHATS HE TO ME? 

partaking of it, didn’t mean that it is to want to par- 
take of it.” 

‘‘Possibly, Don,” responded Frazier, somewhat 
thoughtfully, “but you know I shall never feel that 1 
am really prosperous until I get that $10,000 debt 
paid off, nor shall I ever feel quite comfortable until 
I know who let me have the money. It was the 
strangest thing I ever heard of. And I wonder how 
my benefactor will feel about my accepting the can- 
didacy for mayor, and how he likes the policy of the 
paper? Of course you know what he thinks, Don 
— don’t you? And wouldn’t he have really been 
more pleased — whoever it may be — if I deeded half 
the plant over to you? You know all the circum- 
stances, and if I am not doing what I should, why 
tell me.” 

“I know almost as little as you about the matter,” 
said Don. “I told you all I dared to in the begin- 
ning.” 

“Well, the election comes next Tuesday and I shall 
be glad when it is all over. I am not much of a poli- 
tician and I am already sick of being a candidate for 
office.” 

. With this Frazier went into his den and sat down 
to work. Before long there came a rap at the door 
and Uncle Ben Huntington entered. 

“Hed to come to town to-day, an’ so I thought I’d 
jest call and see how ye felt to be a canderdate for 


THE RECALCITRANT 


171 

mayor. Musta come on ter yer pretty sudden. 
Wish I could vote for ye, I swan. But I can’t. 
Yer no more fit to train with that agertatin’ gang 
than hell is for a powderhouse.” 

“Oh, Mr. Huntington, they are not nearly as bad 
as you take them to be. They are merely trying to 
raise their own condition; to secure a better support 
for their families, to educate their children a little 
more, and dress them a little better. They want a 
little more meat and better vegetables on their tables. 
Can any one blame them? This means better busi- 
ness for our- retail merchants, better sale for the 
products of the farm, and that touches you a little, 1 
believe. Better business for the landlord and more 
patronage for the street railway. I really believe it 
means even better support for the churches and 
larger church attendance.’’ 

“Wa’al, p’raps, but I should quicker think it would 
mean more prosperity for the saloon and more 
raisin’ the taxes. By thunder, taxes are high enough 
now, without puttin’ in a crowd that don’t pay any 
themselves.” 

“Well, Mr. Huntington, I hardly think it neces- 
sary to worry, for I don’t suppose this labor-reform 
movement has the slightest chance of being success- 
ful.” 

“I don’t, nuther. But I’ve made up my mind I’m 
not goin’ to vote for Piggott any way — ^tol’ my wife 


172 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


so this mornin’. After he played you that durn 
mean trick, he don’t deserve to be elected, ’nless it 
is to git him out o’ town. But I see ye got the money 
to take up the mortgage. ’Taint none o’ my busi- 
ness, but who did ye git it on’ — some rich relative, or 
did somebody in town come along an’ help you?” 

“It was no rich relative, Mr. Huntington, for I 
haven’t any that are very wealthy, but just who it 
was who did me the favor I am not in a position to 
state. But I am none the less grateful and it shows 
that there is unselfishness and helpfulness in the 
world yet.” 

“Wa’al I should say so. Sho! I almost forgot 
what I cum in here fer. Stepped ’round to my sis- 
ter’s, Mis’ Warren, when I cum down and Helen 
sent this ’round to ye fer good luck.” 

Uncle Ben put his hand in his coat pocket and 
drew out a horseshoe. 

“Betsy just cast it, and she sed she didn’t know of 
anybody who deserved and needed it mor’n you do, 
so I brought it ’round. I don’t b’lieve much in them 
sort o’ things, although when I see the new moon 
over my left shoulder, I alius notice I have some 
piece of durned, nasty luck. ’Course Helen h’aint 
on your side of the fence perlitically. You never 
saw a Huntington who wuz anything but a Republi- 
can, but she takes an interest in you, and proberly 


THE HORSESHOE 


173 

thought even if it wouldn’t do ye much good in git- 
tin’ votes, it would cheer ye up a bit.” 

“Why, that was very thoughtful. No matter how 
small my vote may be next Tuesday, I shall consider 
a goodly per cent, of it will be due to Betsy’s shoe.” 

After the old gentleman had gone, Frazier took 
up the horseshoe and looked at it thoughtfully. 
Frazier was a believer in cause and effect rather than 
in luck. At that moment, he was far more inter- 
ested in Betsy’s shoe than in the election. Some 
people claim to possess a psychic power to read in 
an inanimate object its history and trace the identity 
of the person who has handled it. Would that he 
could read in that supposedly lucky bit of iron be- 
fore him the real thought of the sender. Was it a 
sudden girlish caprice or was it a more thoughtful 
expression of her real feelings? What would politi- 
cal success or material honors amount to without the 
greatest prize of all? 


CHAPTER XIX 


Only the actions of the just 

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 

— Shirley. 

Frazier had not seen Helen since the night of the 
astronomical party. His own heart was so full that 
he dared not go near her lest he say too much. A 
man in his circumstances, he felt, should keep a firm 
hold on himself. But this particular Sunday morn- 
ing found him in church listening to an out of town 
pulpit celebrity. After the service as he came into 
the vestibule, he met Mrs. Warren and Helen. 
Both greeted him cordially; Helen in her usual off- 
hand manner, while Mrs. Warren insisted that he 
should go home with them to dinner. 

“It is quite useless to trump up any excuse,” said 
she. “If you have no desire for our society, I know 
you will want to sample Helen’s new dessert. Jim 
preferred to turn the cream freezer rather than come 
out to church.” 

Frazier laughed and walked along with them, 
which made more than one old resident give a signi- 
ficant nod. 

While the ladies were laying aside their wraps, 
Frazier wandered about, noting the old family por- 
X75 


176 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


traits, but he was not thinking of them in the least. 
He was turning over in his mind for the hundredth 
time whether he dare tell Helen all he felt for her. 
What right had he, a poor devil of a scribbler, to ask 
a girl like her to marry him? She had been petted 
— though not spoiled, Frazier reasoned with a tender 
smile about his lips — from the time she could re- 
member, and had every wish of her heart gratified. 
How unfitted she would be to share the ups and 
downs of a journalist’s life, which thus far in his 
own case had been rough traveling for even his ac- 
customed feet. But things seemed to be on the 
mend now. It looked as if the relentless pendulum 
of fate was slowly swinging toward the goal of his 
ambition. He had not much money to be sure, but 
the paper was doing better and better every day. 
Dare he do it? 

His meditations were interrupted by the return of 
the ladies. 

“I wish you belonged to our party and I had a 
vote to cast for you,” said Mrs. Warren, pleasantly. 

“Why, mother!” exclaimed Helen. “After all 
you have said to me about strong-minded women.” 

They all laughed and Helen continued : 

“You didn’t know I had been stump-speaking for 
you, did you, Mr. Frazier? Most people I talk 
with seem favorably disposed toward you, but you’ve 
grieved and shocked Mrs. Quincy. She professes 


THE SCOFFER 


177 


herself disappointed in you. She told me the other 
day she had been thinking of inviting you to the next 
open meeting of the Chapter, (the next one is to be 
at her house), but now she couldn’t consistently ask 
you, seeing you had allied yourself with the objec- 
tionable element in town. I know you will feel it a 
great punishment.” 

“What is the nature of the meeting?” asked 
Frazier. i 

“Papers a yard long about revolutionary heroes 
who wouldn’t to-day have the nerve to listen 
through the evening, if by a miracle they could be 
reincarnated. Some of the essays are copied piece- 
meal from books and read in drowsy tones that you’d 
enjoy in a fit of insomnia. There are generally 
three, the dullest at the beginning and the longest at 
the end. You sit around in your best clothes and 
pretend to like it. Just when you are on the point 
of going to sleep, you smell the coffee and you know 
it is to be salad and sandwiches and coffee instead of 
bouillon and sandwiches and ice cream.” 

“Helen!” expostulated her mother. 

“Yes, I know you assume to like it, for you are a 
Daughter in good standing, but you needn’t pretend 
to me. I’ve seen you nodding more than once. I 
honestly wish my ancestors had sunk in Boston har- 
bor before they ever fought at Bunker Hill, if the 
agony is to be prolonged down the ages.” 


178 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“I am sorry to miss the pleasure of the evening,” 
said Frazier. 

“I told Mrs. Quincy I knew you would be more 
generous and send her a special invitation to your 
inauguration as mayor.” 

“Don’t count on that. It is a forlorn hope. I 
am but a figure-head, anyway.” 

After dinner, Mrs. Warren departed for her af- 
ternoon nap, and Helen and Frazier were left alone. 
Somehow the conversation turned on Gordon 
Donald. 

“I don’t know what I should have done up here 
without you and Donald,” he said. “You have 
cheered me up, but all through these trying experi- 
ences he has been a staff of steel to depend upon.” 

“That’s Gordon,” said Helen, a tender look com- 
ing into her eyes. “He’d lie down and let those he 
loves tread him into the mire, if it would help them.” 

“It is such a pity that he is handicapped physi- 
cally,” said Frazier. 

“Why, I never think of that,” said Helen. “Phy- 
sical qualities are admirable, but moral ones are bet- 
ter; don’t you think so?” 

“I suppose they are.” 

“But Gordon has physical courage also. Did he 
ever tell you about what happened on the first ride 
he took behind Betsy?” 

“No,” answered Frazier. 


THE INSIGHT 


79 


“He said he wouldn’t say anything about it, but I 
expected he would tell you. Coming home that day, 
Betsy became frightened and shied at a bit of paper. 
I was thinking of something else and carelessly drop- 
ped the reins. Then it came to me how helpless 
Gordon was and what a careless, scatter-brained 
thing I was. Gordon at once got over the dash- 
board and the next thing I knew he was on Betsy’s 
back and had stopped her just this side of the cross- 
ing as the noon express went by at the rate of a mile 
a minute. Gordon and I have been friends from the 
days when we made mud pies together, but somehow 
that day showed him in a different light.’’ 

“He ought to have a wife, but he is not likely to 
marry.’’ 

“Why not?’’ asked Helen quickly. “He is 
worthy of the best woman in the world.’’ Her 
cheeks flushed. 

“Yes, I have never known a better man or had a 
truer friend,’’ said Ffazier, “but I fancied him rather 
sensitive about his lameness.” 

The conversation was interrupted by the appear- 
ance of Miss Colton who came in familiarly as was 
her custom. 

“I haven’t seen you since that awfully funny meet- 
ing,” said Helen. “Tell Mr. Frazier about it.” 

“It is one of the occasions that should have been 
enjoyed in person,” said Miss Colton. “You see in- 


i8o WHATS HE TO ME? 

temperance is on the increase in the city and the W. 
C. T. U., preferring to take their information second 
hand, asked me to give a short address on the sub- 
ject and the remedy for it. It was a rather funny 
position for me, for many of them know that I 
don’t object to light wine and often use it in accord- 
ance with the customs of the Continent where 1 
spent most of my life.” 

“They took it for granted that she was one of the 
rabble because she sometimes goes down in Meadow 
street,” said Helen. “I went along with Vera to 
give her moral support, and I thought she needed 
it. Did you ever go to their meetings? Well, they 
are the frumpiest set of old hens you ever saw. I 
should think they would drive their husbands to 
drink.” 

“Well,” said Frazier, smiling, “what did they 
talk about?” 

“Oh, the wicked rum seller and how reckless it is 
to feed a tramp unless you are sure he does not 
drink. One speaker objected to these Spartan meas- 
ures. She is a famous cook, and admitted she fed 
tramps especially so she could have an opportunity 
to tell them of the evil of their ways and induce them 
to sign the pledge. She treated them to bread and 
meat and coffee sometimes, but always pie, and end- 
ed by giving them a tract to take along with them. 
She had no doubt that occasionally she touched a 


THE ACCUSER 


i8i 


soul, for some of them came back — for her pie, quite 
likely. Her mince pies would reform any drunk- 
ard.” 

“Helen, please don’t talk so; what will Mr. Fra- 
zier think?” said her mother who had just entered 
the room, while the rest laughed. 

“Then Vera got up and she talked like a Salva- 
tion Army captain,” continued Helen. “She said 
that the previous speaker was ahead of the rest in 
that she did something. It was the old, old story 
told so beautifully in the ‘Vision of Sir Launfal’ — 
‘the gift without the giver is bare.’ She showed how 
every one who works among the poor, finds he can 
do nothing except as a matter of personal relation. 
What was their society doing? Were they trying 
to help any particular drunkard? Had they sent 
any especially difficult case to a sanitarium to be 
treated? Had they done anything in the way of 
coffee houses or in providing any warm, plain, com- 
fortable meeting place for the loungers or frequent- 
ers of the saloons, who had no other place to go? 
Had they even done as much as the poor Italian for 
his own personal gain had done — set up a single 
stand where lemonade and temperance drinks would 
catch the eye of the thirsty? I wish you could have 
heard her, Mr. Frazier.” 

“Did it have any effect?” he asked Miss Colton. 

“I’m afraid not, though the meeting passed the 


i 82 


fFHArS HE TO ME? 


usual resolutions, thanking me for my talk and re- 
solving to look into the matter. Then they began 
the discussion of whether they should wear temper- 
ance buttons.” 

“What is the real object of the organization, to 
practice or preach?” 

“To preach mostly. But if they had ever watched 
and waited in the cold, dark hours of the early 
morning for the man to whom they had given their 
girlish love to come stumbling up the stairs with a 
curse, and pretending to be asleep to escape his an- 
ger, they would stop resolving and talking and go to 
work. If they had seen as I have seen honest, good- 
hearted workmen turned by a few drinks from af- 
fectionate husbands and tender fathers into savages, 
they could not sit down contentedly in well furnished 
parlors and merely discuss. But then,” continued 
Miss Colton, “one must have suffered, either for 
one’s self or for a loved one or a friend, to have 
these things have any meaning and to do forceful 
work that brings results. I believe it was Amiel who 
said, ‘The more a man lives, the more he suffers.’ 
I should transpose it and say the more a man suf- 
fers, the more he lives. Happiness is necessarily 
selfish; suffering reveals to us the common lot of 
mankind. It makes us feel with others and not for 
others.” 


THE CONTRAST 183 

When Frazier finally returned to the office, he 
found Donald there. 

“Why, Don, are you acquiring the bad habit of 
haunting the office Sunday?” 

“I just dropped in for a moment.” 

“I expected to see you at the Warren’s. Don’t 
you usually go there on Sunday?” 

“Yes, usually, but I haven’t been there very much 
lately.” 

“I met them as I came out of church and Mrs. 
Warren insisted that I go home with them to dinner. 
They evidently expected you. What a hospitable 
family the Warren household is. I often think of 
that day when the telephone rang and you sent me 
up there. I can’t thank you enough for being the 
means of my meeting Helen. You told me she was 
pretty and witty, but you didn’t give me an idea of 
how sweet and womanly she is.” 

“I suppose I’d known her so long that I never 
thought of speaking of it,” returned Don, evasively. 

“Miss Colton came in before I came away. She 
is an attractive and an earnest woman, but there are 
more of her type in the world. Miss Warren makes 
me think of the old-fashioned pinks that mother used 
to have in her garden. I remember that one of the 
long beds on the right of the white pebbly path was 
full of portulaccas and the other was a mass of those 
spicy garden pinks. Whenever I see or smell one 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


184 

after all these years, I can see mother sitting in her 
chair by the window, smiling at me as I went up the 
path. And I never see Miss Warren but I seem to 
smell the fresh spicy odor and see their bright, 
cheerful faces standing up sturdily in their places. 
She makes me wish I could wipe out all the blots in 
my life and show a clean fair page. Does she make 
you feel that way, Don?” 

“Not exactly,” said Don, quietly. “But I agree 
with you, she is a rare woman.” 

“It is a wonder you never fell in love with her, 
Don,” said Frazier. 

“Every one loves her,” Don replied, “from the 
man who shoes her horse to the latest lover at her 
heels.” 

“But I don’t mean that,” persisted Frazier. 

“An honorable man will not allow himself to fall 
in love where he can not marry,” said Don. 

Something in his tone made Frazier wish he had 
not opened the subject. Don’s voice had a tremble 
in it and as Frazier glanced at him, he noticed that 
his face looked hurt. 

“You are the closest-mouthed person I know, 
Don,” said Frazier, changing the subject. “You 
not only won’t tell me who lent me the $i 0,000, but 
you were so modest that you never told me how 
brave you were to stop Betsy when she was running 
you all into the jaws of death.” 


THE RADIANCE 


185 


“Who told you that fairy tale?” asked Don. 

“Miss Warren herself. She supposed I knew it. 
You should have heard how she cracked you up, old 
fellow, and no wonder. Not many men would want 
to take such chances as that.” 

“But Helen was in danger,” said Don simply. 

“She was thinking of your danger, too. She 
hasn’t got over it yet.” 

Frazier looked up and saw such a look of radiance 
on Don’s face that he was stunned for the moment. 
All he said was: 

“Well, old fellow, I must set the wheels of my 
brain to work if it is Sunday,” and he rose and went 
into his den. 


CHAPTER XX 


Little souls on little shifts rely. — Dryden. 

Love is ever the gift, the sacrifice of self. — Canon Liddon. 

Frazier was not considering the coming election 
for his own sake. If the unexpected should happen 
and he were elected, he thought his income as mayor 
would possibly enable him to give Don a most needed 
advance in salary, and personally the idea came to 
him at times that it might add to his favor in the 
eyes of Helen. He was thinking a good deal of her 
these days, but she seemed as unapproachable as an 
untamed eagle. Was she cognizant of his love for 
her and was her shyness due to maidenly reserve? 
Or was she taking this way to show him that his love 
was not returned? But Frazier had other serious 
subjects to consider likewise. The publisher of a 
daily newspaper in the midst of an exciting election 
campaign, himself a candidate for office, has little 
room in his head for the tender passion, or the 
gentle arts of polite society, even though he may 
have them in his heart. 

But polite society had the time and the inclina- 
tion to discuss Frazier and his sins of omission and 
commission. For his affiliation with what the more 
conservative and older families called the rabble, had 
187 


i88 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


somewhat injured him socially. It did not affect the 
Review, however, for there is no stronger incentive 
to newspaper reading than curiosity, and since his 
load of obligation had in a measure been removed, 
Frazier sometimes wrote radical and caustic edi- 
torials that shocked his friends and annoyed his foes. 

The action of the local Women’s Christian Tem- 
perance Union was a case in point, as showing the 
feelings of the permanently established better classes. 
The organization was to have a fair. When the 
matter of advertising was discussed in the meeting, 
which was appointed to arrange details, Mrs. Quincy 
had said as plainly as was her wont that she was not 
in favor of expending any money for advertising the 
affair in the columns of the Review. 

“I believe,” she said, “that we should put our- 
selves on record as protesting against a newspaper 
which caters to the — ’er — rabble and riff-raff, and 
whose editor has become a candidate for mayor for 
them.” 

“But the Review is being pretty well read by all 
classes just now,” suggested a member, “and we want 
all the publicity we can get for our fair.” 

“Yes, but that is no reason why we should spend 
our money in a way to encourage the things we op- 
pose as an organization — the liquor sellers, for in- 
stance; they are all on the side of this lawless ele- 
ment ticket. My husband tells me it is most social- 


THE NOTICE 189 

istic in its tendency and that it would be a great 
calamity if by any chance it were elected.” 

“There is no harm in sending in a reading notice 
for publication, is there?” suggested another mem- 
ber. “It won’t cost anything, and I don’t think we 
ought to ignore the Review entirely.” 

“Perhaps not. The paper wants the news and 
probably would be glad to get a notice stating just 
what we are going to do, and that would not be giv- 
ing it our sanction or support.” 

Mrs. Quincy who was greatly interested in the 
coming fair, took the notice to the Review office 
and handed it to Frazier. 

“You see,” she said, “the ladies of the W. C. T. 
U. are going to give a fair when this awful election 
is over, and they hope to secure a large attendance. 
We need the money sadly for the purpose of fitting 
up our rooms, putting down a new carpet and pic- 
tures on the walls, and to help otherwise in carry- 
ing on our grand work.” 

“Is this intended for a paid advertisement, or is it 
simply meant for a free reading notice?” 

“Oh, just a free notice. I know the Review wants 
the news so I thought I would bring it around to 
you.” 

“Of course the Review always stands ready to do 
everything in its power to help on every good and 
worthy cause,” said Frazier. “But I sometimes 


190 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


think that before we take up so much space in our 
columns for a free notice of this kind, we should 
know something of what the organization is doing 
in a practical way to promote temperance.” 

“Why, Mr. Frazier, we have had more than 
twenty-five meetings the past year, and for speakers 
we have had some of the best and ablest men and 
women in this locality. Of course work of this 
kind costs money and we naturally depend to a cer- 
tain extent on the public for assistance.” 

“But what are you doing for temperance, Mrs. 
Quincy? How many intemperate men and women 
attend your meetings? What do you do in a prac- 
tical way to help them to reform? Has it ever oc- 
curred to you that poverty is quite as much a cause 
for intemperance as intemperance is for poverty? 
Do you go out into the highways and byways to seek 
the intemperate?” 

“Well, yes, we do in many cases, although we 
could do much more, if the public were more liberal 
in responding to our need of funds. We hope, how- 
ever, to make a goodly sum at our fair, and should 
be obliged if you will also call attention to it occa- 
sionally in the Review until it takes place.” 

Before Mrs. Quincy left she said she wished she 
could say she hoped Frazier would be elected mayor, 
but her loyalty to the things that made for the pros- 
perity of the city prevented it. She went directly to 


THE TEMPTATION 


191 

the other newspaper office and had a liberal adver- 
tisement inserted in its columns. 

When Donald saw it in display type next morning 
in the rival newspaper, he indignantly called Fra- 
zier’s attention to it. 

“Mrs. Quincy got as much space out of the Re- 
view in her reading notice as she did in her display 
ad. here,” — holding up the page. “Better turn all 
the ladies over to me after this,” he added, “for I 
understand them better.” 

“Perhaps so,” said Frazier. Indeed, he had been 
many times tempted to turn them over to Donald 
and take him into his confidence in regard to his feel- 
ings for Helen, but whenever he had approached the 
subject, something invariably happened to change the 
theme. 

He might have been more confident could he have 
heard the conversation which was being carried on 
at about the same time only a few blocks away. 
For love is a very important subject at certain epochs 
in our lives. Helen sitting on a rug before the open 
wood fire in the library in an easy careless pose, had 
just asked Miss Colton: 

“Were you ever in love, Vera?” 

“That is a rather leading question. What makes 
you ask? Is it out of friendly curiosity about me, 
or because you suspect you are in love yourself, 
dear?” 


192 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Helen’s blonde head sank to her knee, as she re- 
plied slowly: 

“Well, it is for information.’’ 

“Yes, I do know the nature of love,’’ said Vera. 
“It is to live and move and exist on a smile or word; 
to be willing’’ — and she glanced into the open fire — 
“to walk through burning flames, to suffer through 
eternity, or die a daily death, so but he be happy; 
love extends beyond the realm of the marriage ser- 
vice — ‘in povery and wealth, in sickness and health, 
till death part.’ Love may even mean stifling your 
own heart throbs and smilingly seeing your hero be- 
come another’s. There are many forms of love, 
Helen, but one word covers them all — love is sacri- 
fice.’’ 

“But is love — should it be — always centered in 
one man? Men are so different, and one person 
does not always possess all the admirable qualities?’’ 

“Real love is where you can see but the one, 
whether absent or present, when no phase of life 
seems too hard, no sorrow too bitter, if you can only 
have him to lean upon. Why, dear, a woman her- 
self must know.’’ 

“But if she is not sure?’’ 

“Then wait, Helen. Love comes to some early 
in life, to others late. But it surely comes. The 
danger is that love has many imitators. But when 


THE LOVER 


193 

once it has really come, there can be no mistake, no 
uncertainty.” 

“But some say that love is out of date, Vera, and 
I sometimes wonder if it is as sacrificing as you say.” 

“I wish I could take you into a home down on 
Forrest avenue and I would convince you that love 
is real. It is a shabby place, where the only extrav- 
agance is soap and water. There are five children. 
That means constant denial on the part of the father 
and mother that there may be food enough to go 
around. Think of the work that woman does. Up 
at five o’clock these dark mornings, for her husband 
has a long walk and must be at the mill at half-past 
six; there is washing, ironing, scrubbing and baking 
for seven people. Think of the thousands of stitches 
that mother has taken since with the anticipation 
of a new joy, she began the first baby garments. 
But such happiness I That rough man is as much 
the mother’s lover as any poetic youth of twenty 
who tells his love in verse or song. His face is rug- 
ged and rough, but the eyes beam with tender love, 
and the answering look in his wife’s eyes, as he tells 
her how dear she is, is the rarest sight in the world. 
Ah, Helen, don’t think for an instant that love is not 
sacrifice. Love is the power that rules the world.” 

“I’m afraid I could not love a man enough to be 
willing to live in Forrest avenue or to get up at five 


194 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


o’clock in the morning as a regular thing,” said 
Helen garrulously. “I’d prefer to be a princess and 
live in a palace, as all the fairy tales go.” 

Miss Colton laughed. “I shall not worry much 
over the state of your heart. I was misled, you 
looked so serious.” 

“Is that the reason you are so serious at times, 
Vera?” she questioned. 

“Ah, my dear, don’t ask so many pointed ques- 
tions.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


The cheapness of man is every day’s tragedy. — Emerson. 

Election had come at last. The day was an ideal 
one for the voters — clear and rather cold. Every 
public carriage and hack in the city had been se- 
cured for the purpose of taking the voters to the 
polls. They rattled and rumbled hither and thither 
until it seemed impossible that a single voter could 
have been overlooked. Although the polls closed at 
four o’clock there had been so much obliteration 
of party lines — so much “scratching” of ballots — 
that it was nearly seven o’clock in the evening before 
the vote had been counted. Meantime, the Review 
office was an extremely busy place. An extra was to 
be issued giving the result at the earliest possible mo- 
ment, and long before that time there were constant 
calls at the telephone asking for information as to 
which side had gained the victory. 

Frazier was in the office most of the day, al- 
though going out early to vote. He remained in the 
polling booth for some time, which caused some of 
those present to remark that he must have been do- 
ing a good deal of scratching the ticket, something 
that most of them did not approve in the case of a 
195 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


196 

candidate who headed the ticket. It finally reached 
Frazier’s ears. 

“Why, I can see nothing to be ashamed of in 
that,” said he. “This is in accordance with the 
principles I have held from the first. I see no rea- 
son why party lines should be drawn in a city elec- 
tion. What under the sun has the tariff or expan- 
sion or the Monroe doctrine or state rights to do 
about the government of the city? The issues con- 
cern the various departments of the city government 
and nothing else. National and state politics have 
nothing to do with them. I voted for some candi- 
dates of the opposing party because 1 think they are 
better fitted to fill the offices for which they were 
nominated. If those who put me in poor Rolka’s 
place have not understood my feelings, it was their 
fault and not my own, for I have never disguised 
them, but have tried to make them plain.’’ 

Possibly this may have cost Frazier some votes, 
but he did not seem to be greatly disturbed over it. 
The great cotton mill shut down for one hour to give 
those who were voters time to go to the polls, and it 
was found that of the entire voting population of 
something over 4,200, over 4,000 had exercised their 
privileges as freemen when the polls were closed. 

The returns were brought to the Review office by 
wards. That from Ward 3 was received first. It 
was as follows: 


THE JOURNALIST 


197 


Furman 321 

Frazier 286 


The result was rather disappointing to Frazier’s 
friends in the Review office. The ward was one 
where most of the mill help lived and was supposed 
to be extremely strong in labor reform sentiment. 

But just at this time Paul Downs, the city editor, 
came hurrying into the office. 

“We must get a move on, just as fast as we can. 
The Morning Gazette is coming out with an evening 
extra and they are trying to get on the street first.” 

In an instant Frazier had lost all personal interest 
In the election and the candidate was transformed 
Into the editor. 

“What!” exclaimed Frazier. “Going to get out an 
extra ? Well, then we must get these figures in type, 
just as soon as possible. Have you got good men 
out after the returns, Paul? Of course you had to 
draft in some outsiders, for we haven’t got enough 
to go around, but I hope you can depend upon them 
to get the figures from all the wards without a mo- 
ment’s delay. We shall have no difficulty In getting 
any of them with the exception of the seventh, and 
that is so far away that it will take at least fifteen 
minutes to bring them in. I wonder if we can’t 
reach some one down there by telephone. Suppose 
you try. Hello, here comes Ward Two.” 

A reporter came rushing In with a slip of paper. 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


198 

Frazier seized it and carried it into the composing 
room. While the compositors were at work upon 
it, he copied the totals and took them back to the 
business office so that they might be footed up and 
all be ready as soon as possible after the last ward 
was brought in. 

Frazier had run something behind his ticket. It 
was called the “silk-stocking ward,” and Furman’s 
vote was nearly double his own. But this he did not 
notice. The main thing was to get the extra out 
before that of his rival. He had already arranged 
for special dispatches concerning the general result 
in the state and elsewhere but he immediately wired 
the Associated Press for one thousand words more. 

“We may as well have it,” said he to Don. “We 
shall have plenty of time to put it in type before we 
get returr^s from all the wards, and as long as it is to 
be a race to see which paper will get out first, we 
may as well have one to see which can get out the 
best extra. The public will want as much as pos- 
sible about the general as well as the local result.” 

Ward One came in next and then came Wards 
Four, Five and Six in quick succession. Frazier was 
in the composing room most of the time, spurring 
the men on to their best efforts. 

“We must not be beaten and I don’t think we will 
be,” said he. He rushed down into the press room 
to see that everything was ready so that there should 


THE EXTRA 


199 


not be an instant’s delay. “It means dollars to me,’’ 
said he to the pressman, “and it means something 
for you, if you will cast the plate of this election page 
just as quickly as possible.” 

Then he hastened back to the printers, for he 
was already practically sure of the result, and 
quickly dashed off the big double-column heading, 
giving it out line by line to different men so that it 
was in type almost as soon as it was written. In a 
half-hour all the returns were in except those from 
the Seventh Ward, and in answer to calls by tele- 
phone, the report came that they were behind in their 
counting and would not be ready for at least twenty 
minutes. 

“Paul,” said Frazier to the city editor, “you’re a 
good bicyclist. Here’s your wheel all ready. Jump 
on it and ride out to Ward Seven and get those re- 
turns. You know how to do things. It is nearly 
two miles out there, but you can ride it in five min- 
utes. You can beat anything but the telephone, and 
I don’t dare trust that. When you get them, ride 
back as did Paul Revere of old. The modern Paul 
will be quite as great a hero. Now go.” 

Downs jumped on his wheel and in less than fif- 
teen minutes he had returned with the precious 
figures in his hand. In an instant they were in the 
composing room, the form was locked up, it was 
whirled down into the press room, and soon the press 


200 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


might be heard, pulsating with rhythmic beats, the 
newsboys ready to catch the papers as fast as they 
were passed out to them. 

The Morning Gazette had been beaten, and Fra- 
zier was satisfied. Not until then did he sit down 
to make an analysis of the vote or really notice the 
strength or weakness of his own support. 

He carried Wards Four and Five by a handsome 
majority, although running slightly ahead of his 
ticket. But the final vote was far more satisfactory 
than he expected. The totals were as follows : 

Furman 2,086 

Frazier 15969 

The balance of the Republican ticket was elected 
by a somewhat greater majority, showing that on the 
whole Frazier had not been a weak candidate for the 
reformers. But Piggott had been cut unmercifully. 
Although the senatorial district elected him, his own 
city and especially his own ward, went against him. 
He barely squeezed through with a majority so 
slight that there was some talk of having a recount. 

Frazier was especially gratified to know that 
his greatest strength had come from the middle class. 
“I am glad of that,” said he to Donald. “The 
really dangerous classes are the extremes of poverty 
and of wealth. The hope of the country is in the 
great middle class — those who are neither very rich 
nor very poor.” 


THE GAME 


201 


“Yes, but I had expected you would have done 
better in Ward Three. There is where most of the 
mill workers live and surely they should have sup- 
ported you and the ticket. I wonder if there is any- 
thing in that report that many of them were offered 
five dollars if Furman were elected. It is a nasty 
game and a shrewd one. It beats the old way all 
to pieces of handing a voter a ballot and watching 
him put it in the ballot box, for it gives the oppor- 
tunity of fraud without much fear of detection. 
The Australian ballot system is a great step in ad- 
vance, but I am afraid we can never make men moral 
by law. I hope this story of vote-buying in this 
way is untrue.” 



'i 

' f 


i 

I 


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r 



I 




« 


I 


I 

I 


I 




CHAPTER XXII 


The more honesty a man has, the less he affects the air of a 
saint. — ^Lavater. 

Later in the evening Uncle Ben Huntington drop- 
ped in and immediately settled himself in the edi- 
torial chair, which Frazier had temporarily vacated. 

“I couldn’t very well wait till mornin’ to find out 
all about the ’lection,” said he. “Herd before the 
polls closed that you’re a gone goose, Mr. Frazier, 
and that Piggott’s ’lected. Dunno but I’m ’bout as 
sorry fer one as t’other. Piggott’s too mighty mean 
ter be in the Republican party, and I’m ’dined to 
think you’re ruther too decent to be in the crowd 
you’re trainin’ in. But there ain’t no accountin’ fer 
taste. Well, how’d the state go, anyhow?” 

“The Republican ticket is elected from top to bot- 
tom, I believe, although Piggott only got in by the 
skin of his teeth, so to speak.” 

“Wa’al, that’s good news — the whole on’t.” 

“But Mr. Huntington,” continued Frazier, “there 
are reports of some corruption in the city campaign. 
They say that Ashbell’s henchmen offered five dol- 
lars each to a large number of voters to whom they 
dared suggest a bribe, if Furman were elected, and 
203 


204 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


that in this way he was able to add at least two 
hundred votes to the whole number.” 

“Not the slightest doubt on’t. There’s a certain 
breed of votin’ cattle that’ll sell themselves for less’n 
that. Some’ll do it fer a drink of whiskey. But 
’cordin’ to my idea, the Democrats are not only bet- 
ter vote sellers but they’re better vote buyers than 
the Republicans. I don’t suppose Jim Ashbell 
would go into the vote-buyin’ business himself, but 
he’d shet his eyes and ears and ’low others to do it 
for him, and don’t you forget it. I’ve know Jim 
for a good many years, an’ he ginerally gits what 
he sets out for. I wouldn’t trust him as fer as you 
could swing a cat by the tail if he is a deacon in good 
and reg’lar standin’ at the Fust Baptist Church. I 
tell my wife I h’ain’t got but one code of morals, and 
that is the same in politics as it is in anything else — 
in a boss trade or in church. I’m dead opposed to 
political corruption, but if any on it has ben done, 
the Republicans lamed it of the Democrats. Before 
this city was incorporated we used to do things dif- 
ferent, and to my mind a mighty sight better. You 
let a man try anything crooked in those days and 
he’d git throw’d out into the street. We used to 
meet out in the old town hall that’s torn down now, 
town meetin’ day, choose our moderator, and do 
most of our votin’ by sayin’ aye or no. The crowd 
that yelled the loudest sometimes carried the day and 


THE CONSTABLE 


205 

there wan’t no goin’ back on’t, but as a gineral thing 
we did things ’bout right. 

“I remember one town meetin’ day we were goin’ 
to vote on raisin’ money for a new ingin house and 
they ’pinted me moderator. I expected there’d be 
trouble, for some on ’em said taxes were high enough 
already and were mad as hatters. They ’lowed it 
was a useless expenditure of the people’s money 
when we could jest as well go on usin’ Steve Bates’s 
barn. The hall was putty full and I had my eye out 
for a scrap. When it come to a vote, I had the ayes 
go on one side of the center aisle and the noes on 
t’other. I counted ’em up as well as I could and de- 
clared the ayes hed it, but some one got up and 
doubted the vote. I didn’t want any skullduggery 
so I ordered a ballot taken. I ’pinted a committee, 
and we had the whole crowd form in line and put 
their ballots in Squire Thompson’s plug hat. I 
watched ’em pooty close, but pooty soon I saw one 
man fall right into line agin and vote twict. I 
called up Jim Billings, the consterble, and ’pinted 
the man out and told Jim what he’d done. Jim was 
a powerful feller and the best consterble we’d ever 
had in town. He didn’t wait a minute but went 
right over to the feller, took him by the slack of his 
pants and the scruff of his collar, walked him turkey 
to the door, and threw him sprawlin’ out into the 


2o6 


fVHATS HE TO ME? 


mud. He didn’t come into the hall agin that day. 
That’s the way we used io handle corruption.” 

“And that’s the way it ought to be handled to-day, 
Mr. Huntington; both the corrupter and the cor- 
rupted.” 

“By gum, I cum pooty near forgettin’ what I come 
in fer. There was a mighty sad death up in our 
neighborhood this mornin’. Jennie Newcomb was 
called home after bein’ sick for more’n a year. She 
was one of the very best girls any where ’round. 
One of my neighbors who alius does that sort o’ 
thing sent down a little obituary notice for ye to 
print, and he asked me ef you didn’t mind to have 
it go in just as it was written. I s’pose it’ll be kinder 
consolin’ for the friends and relatives. Here it is.” 

Uncle Ben handed out the following notice, which 
Frazier read and promised should be published with- 
out any changes: 

“Miss Jennie Newcomb died at her home on the 
North road this morning at the age of nineteen 
years, with the dreaded disease consumption, as her 
life has been hanging by a thread for some time. 
The young lady made a start in the religious life at 
the recent revival meetings and has since been a 
happy Christian. She will inherit a home in the 
sweet by-and-by. She will be buried in the Aspen 
Grove cemetery, to sleep until the resurrection morn- 
ing.” 




THE DEFEATED 


207 


“ ’Twuz a good Christian wrote that; a durned 
sight better one than I am,” added Uncle Ben, re- 
flectively. 

Uncle Ben rose to say good night when another 
visitor came bustling into the office. 

“It’s time you were home and in bed. Uncle Ben,” 
exclaimed Helen Warren. “Here it is after eleven 
o’clock and Aunt ’Lizabeth is waiting for you over 
at the house, worried to death. Jim took me to the 
theatre and he wanted to stop and tell Mr. Frazier 
that he voted for him, which is more than you did, I 
imagine.” 

“James Huntington Warren,” said Uncle Ben, 
looking serious, “ef you bolted the Republican ticket, 
you want to change your name right away.” 

Jim grinned and acknowledged the impeachment, 
and Frazier thanked him with a cordial handshake. 

“We’re glad you didn’t get elected after all, Mr. 
Frazier,” said Helen, “but we congratulate you for 
the fine fight you made.” 

Frazier held out both hands impulsively and took 
the daintily gloved ones in his own. 

“Thank you very much,” he said, lamely, but his 
eyes expressed more, and Helen continued: 

“You see I could never ask the mayor to stir a 
rarebit or help me mix a salad. Can’t you and Gor- 
don come home with us now and we’ll have a jolly 


208 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


celebration. No protests. Uncle Ben is coming 
along and Aunt ’Lizabeth is there. What do we 
care for politics anyway?” 

And Helen had her way as usual. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Rumor grows as it goes. — Virgil. 

When Mr. Piggott read the result of the election, 
he clenched his fists in rage. 

“It was due to that puppy Frazier of the Review,” 
he mentally ejaculated, “that my majority was so 
small. I know I am a mighty sight more popular 
than the result indicates. But if he thinks he is go- 
ing to get the best of me, he will find his mistake.” 

Piggott was too shrewd a politician to publicly ad- 
mit his chagrin but he could not quite conceal his 
anger at Frazier and he did not hesitate to reveal 
his feelings to his more intimate associates. The 
following Saturday night when he dropped in at the 
local business men’s club rooms, he found Frazier’s 
name posted for membership. 

Frazier himself knew nothing of this. In fact he 
had been so absorbed in his work that comparatively 
few of the more substantial citizens knew him from 
the social side. But the recent election revealed the 
fact that he had influence and it was beginning to be 
seen that he had ability. Consequently he must be 
worth cultivating. Nothing succeeds like success. 
His name had been suggested for membership by 

209 


210 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


some of his friends who felt that he would be an 
acquisition to their social affairs. 

But Piggott, who had been a member for a long 
time, decided at once to thwart it at all hazards. He 
had never had a chance to vindicate himself for his 
sudden foreclosure of the Review mortgage, and he 
knew the opinion about town was that he had acted 
discreditably. In fact, he surmised that the result 
of the election might be something of a rebuke for 
his course. 

According to the by-laws of the club no person 
could be elected to membership if there were more 
than three opposing votes. Here was his chance. 
He knew that Mr. Ashbell disliked Frazier on gen- 
eral principles, as he did all who opposed him in the 
slightest, and that Frazier had been somewhat arro- 
gating to himself the political power of the mill- 
owner. Later in the evening the subject of Fra- 
zier’s membership came up, and Piggott remarked, 
somewhat as if he were reluctant to speak on the 
subject: 

“I am afraid if some of the club members knew 
this man Frazier as well as I do, they would hesitate 
before admitting him. This club is far from being 
exclusive. Its dues are small and it is possible for 
any one who lives in the city to join provided he is 
a man who can be trusted and whose character is 


THE VILIFIER 


21 1 


above board. I think our members should at least 
be honest.” 

Piggott gave a peculiar, insinuating inflection to 
the word honest. 

‘‘But certainly Frazier is honest,” interrupted one 
of his listeners. 

“Don’t be too sure about that,” said Piggott, with 
a smile. “I don’t want to associate with a man un- 
less he keeps his word. Mr. Boucher, here, will tell 
you how he approached us both at the little private 
meeting we had to consider the city campaign, and 
practically offered the columns of his shifty paper to 
us, provided we would let him have some money to 
pay his debts, so that he needn’t lose everything he 
had. Now I find that I have been condemned by 
some because I foreclosed the mortgage on his plant. 
I am not here to plead my own case, and it is hardly 
necessary to tell all the details of that transaction. 
But where did Frazier get the money so suddenly, 
when a few weeks before he came crawling to me, a 
perfect stranger and without a dollar to his name? 
Of course he didn’t get it in this city. And I know 
that he didn’t get it by honorable means. Now I am 
not going to tell all I know or say anything further, 
but the day he becomes a member of this club, I go 
out.” 

“And I am afraid I shall have to do the same 
thing,” said Mr, Ashbell. “We are not so anxious 


212 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


for members that we can afford to have any but the 
right sort. I take a good deal of interest in this 
club and am willing to help it along in any way that 
is needed, but I don’t want any members who are 
tainted with suspicion.” 

Those who overheard the conversation were 
rather surprised. While they might have their 
doubts as to the quality of Mr. Piggott’s righteous 
indignation and knew that Mr. Ashbell was inclined 
to be domineering, both were men of influence and 
social position, and they did not care to needlessly 
offend them. There was a moment’s silence when 
Piggott added: 

“I have nothing more to say. If I cared to, I 
could tell more, but it is not my way.” 

Thus Frazier was not elected a member and an 
ugly and persistent rumor gained ground that he had 
paid off his indebtedness to Piggott by some crooked 
means. Paul Downs heard it, and as city editor of 
the Review and being about town a good deal, it 
bothered him. Yet he did not tell Frazier. He 
himself knew nothing about where the money had 
come from. Donald, being in the office most of the 
time, heard nothing of the unpleasant remarks. 

One evening not long after, Frazier and Don to- 
gether attended a local charity fair. Helen Warren 
had charge of one of the booths near the entrance 
and both lingered in its vicinity until she sent them 


THE CHAMPION 


213 


off to help the fair along by patronizing the other 
attractions. They had no sooner gone than Mrs. 
Quincy, seeing that Helen was alone for a moment, 
said: 

“Helen, my dear, why do you allow Mr. Frazier 
to show you the slightest attention? There are ugly 
stories going around about him. Haven’t you heard 
them? A girl can not be too particular.’’ 

“Mrs. Quincy, how dare you.” 

The girl was regal in her anger. All the fighting 
blood of the Huntington and Warren families surged 
to her face. Her eyes blazed, and with her head 
thrown back, the gentle, pleasure-loving Helen was 
a dignified goddess. 

“But you must know that he got the $10,000 to 
pay off his mortgage in a very suspicious way. 
There are reports of gambling in New York and of 
bribe-taking. I know nothing about any of them. 
They may not be true, but I wouldn’t be your friend 
if I didn’t warn you.” 

“Mrs. Quincy, I will not gossip about that which 
neither concerns nor interests me. Whether Mr. 
Frazier is an honorable man or not, we will not dis- 
cuss. But you yourself know that Gordon Donald 
has lived in this city all his life, that he is the soul 
of honor and truth, that he knows Mr. Frazier well 
and he would not be so fond of him if there were 


214 WHATS HE TO ME? 

anything wrong about his character or business 
methods.” 

“Well, I hope so,” said Mrs. Quincy soothingly. 
“But at any rate his name was posted at the Busi- 
ness Men’s Club and he was blackballed. Royal 
told me so, and they wouldn’t do that unless there 
was reason for it.” 

Donald, always keeping his watchful eye on 
Helen, soon returned to the booth, where she told 
him the whole story. 

“Now do you know where he got the money to 
pay that mortgage, Don?” asked she. “And if you 
do, by all means don’t keep it a secret any longer.” 

“I know, Helen, but cannot tell you.” 

“What! You can’t tell?” 

“Well, I suppose I could tell, but as I have prom- 
ised not to, I will not.” 

“Then I shall ask Mr. Frazier himself.” 

At the first opportunity and when Miss Colton 
and Frazier were passing, Helen called them to her. 
She never bothered with preliminaries or excuses. 
She only saw what she was confident was an injustice 
to her friend, and she wanted to learn the truth at 
once. But Frazier quickly observed that something 
unusual was troubling her. 

“What is it. Miss Warren?” 

“I know it is none of my business and possibly it 
may be impertinent, but will you tell me where you 


THE RUMORS 


215 

got the money to pay off the mortgage that Piggott 
held on the Review plant?” 

Frazier was somewhat taken back at such a sudden 
outburst concerning a somewhat personal matter, but 
he replied frankly : 

“I would give a good deal to be able to tell you, 
Miss Warren, but the fact is, I don’t know myself.” 

‘‘Whatl Got $10,000 and don’t know where it 
carpe from? That’s funny.” 

“No; Don knows, but he seems to be bound by 
secrecy and I thus far have not been able to persuade 
him to break his word.” 

“Well, I think he should do so at once. Do you 
know that there are mean rumors going about town 
that in your extremity to save your paper you got 
the money by some dishonorable means?” 

“Dishonorable means? In what way — how? I 
hardly think any intelligent person would believe any 
such report as that. Do you believe this story. Miss 
Colton?” he asked, turning to Vera. 

“Most certainly not, and it is the first I have heard 
of such a report.” 

“Well, since Don knows it is not true and you and 
Miss Warren do not believe it, I don’t mind very 
much what other people say. I hope to be able to 
let the public know all about it before long, for I 
shall soon have the money to cancel the debt.” 


2i6 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


“I am glad you do not mind such gossip,” Helen 
replied, “but I did when I heard it.” 

Frazier was more annoyed than he cared to own, 
however, and he at once resumed the subject after 
they reached the office. 

“It’s exasperating that such a report should be cir- 
culated,” he remarked to Don, “and I wish I knew 
the truth. If I did, I would state the facts at once 
in the Review. Of course the story sprang from 
Piggott and I am sorry that there should be anything 
to hamper the influence of the Review just now. I 
was beginning to feel that at last I could not only 
take an independent position but say things in the 
paper that the public would have confidence in. I 
want to do something to make a better feeling in 
the opposing political forces. I am afraid Mayor 
Furman will be controlled by Ashbell and that there 
will be discontent unless the Review can keep the hot- 
headed, selfish interests on both sides within the 
bounds of reason. But this silly rumor annoys me, 
I confess. Tell me honestly, Don, there was no 
string attached to the loan, was there ? Surely there 
was nothing about it that an honest man need be 
ashamed of, was there?” 

“No, Frazier, I pledge you my word of honor,” 
replied Donald soberly. 

Frazier shut the door of his den and went to work, 
but he did not do much more than write a short edi- 


THE AMBITION 


217 


torial on the sin of gossip and scandal. To the gen- 
eral public it was entirely impersonal, but to Percy 
Piggott, who read between the lines, it was not es- 
pecially reassuring that it would be forgotten. To 
one of his friends a day or two after, Piggott said : 

“The editor of the Review seems to be having 
things his own way these days. But as soon as I 
get through with my work in the legislature, I will 
have a paper of my own and send that hypocrite out 
of town, bag and baggage. I am out of politics, or 
shall be when my term expires, and just aching to 
have a little fun with journalism.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


The beginning of all good law, and nearly the end of it, is that 
every man shall do good work for his bread, and that every man 
shall have good bread for his work. — Ruskin. 

As the spring wore on, the relations between 
capital and labor in the city became still more 
strained. Contracts for city work were given out to 
non-union labor and this caused increased dislike of 
Mayor Furman. In addition to this there were 
mutterings of discontent among the employes of the 
big cotton mill. This was especially the case as to 
the weavers and spinners, but it gradually extended 
through every room. The workers held meetings 
at American Federation Hall, but they were behind 
closed doors and no one knew exactly what was be- 
ing done. One day between twelve and one o’clock, 
three of the employes at the mill called at the office 
and asked to see the general superintendent. They 
arranged themselves in line near the wall and the 
spokesman made the following statement : 

“We are a committee representing all the workers 
in the mill. There has been an increase in the cost 
of living during the past year, and although cotton 
mills in other places have raised wages, there has 
been no raise here. Besides this, changes in the 
219 


220 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


class of goods we are now making renders it impos- 
sible for those who work by the piece to earn as 
much as formerly. We have, therefore, made up a 
new schedule of prices, which we ask to take effect 
the first of May. In this we are acting solely by 
the direction of our fellow workers and ask only that 
which we consider is for the best interests not only 
of the employes but for the owners of the mill.” 

James Ashbell, president of the company, and 
practically the owner of the mill, was away in New 
York at the time and it was stated that a reply could 
not be given at once. Of course he knew in a half- 
hour by the use of the telephone, just what had oc- 
curred, and in fact, had been fully aware for two 
weeks what was coming. But his absence gave an 
opportunity for delay, for in these great dissensions 
between capital and labor, diplomacy is as much of 
an element as in questions affecting nations. Mean- 
time, it was learned that the schedule presented by 
the workers was equivalent to an increase of about 
fifteen per cent, in about all the manufacturing de- 
partments. 

Mr. Ashbell arrived home the next week, and as 
soon as it was known, the committee again presented 
itself at his private office, to get the reply. He had 
one fully prepared. He began by saying that he 
sympathized with the workers in their attempts to 
better their condition, that the interests of capital 


THE EMPLOYER 


221 


and labor were identical, and that when capital is 
prosperous, labor likewise shares in it. 

“I am a worker, myself,” said he, “and work as 
hard as any of you. When I was a young man I 
worked for ninety cents a day and was glad to get it. 
At that time we used to work fourteen hours a day 
and there was nothing known of labor unions. But 
I have nothing against them, although I must run 
this mill for the best interests of the stockholders. 
The price of raw cotton is nearly a cent a pound 
higher than it was a year ago, and print cloths have 
received no advance whatever and are extremely dull. 
I have sometimes thought it would be well to shut 
down the mill altogether for three months, until 
there is a better market for our product. This I 
have hesitated to do, however, knowing what hard- 
ships it would entail upon our employes. We are 
running at very little profit, however, and much as I 
regret it, it will be impossible to grant your request. 
I advise you that it is for your best interests to keep 
at work and we will try to keep the mill running. 
At the end of the year, we will see what can be done 
for you. Possibly business may be a little better 
then and if so, we shall be glad to consider your de- 
mand and grant it, if possible.” 

Mr. Ashbell, like the committee he was receiving, 
had his little speech well thought out and committed 
to memory. But the men were not prepared then 


222 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


and there to discuss it and it was received with a 
good deal of disappointment. They could not dis- 
pute its logic and yet they felt it was not wholly true. 
The chairman on retiring simply told him he was 
sorry the demand had not been granted, but he 
would not be responsible for the consequences. 

The next night there was another meeting of the 
workers to hear the report of their committee, al- 
though the outcome had become generally known all 
over the city. The meeting was a protracted one 
and despite the fact that the workers were due in 
their places at the mill at 6.30 o’clock in the morn- 
ing, it did not break up until midnight. 

Monday morning came. The great mill engine 
was started as usual, but not a dozen employes 
passed through the big gates. A hundred or so 
stood on the streets outside and jeered those who en- 
tered the yard, but the number responding to work 
was far less than had been anticipated. The great 
engine was accordingly shut down and the mill gate 
closed. Some of the strikers gathered in knots 
about the streets, discussing the situation; others 
hung around the strike headquarters, while still 
others made up parties and repaired to the woods 
and fields, evidently bent upon getting as much out- 
door air and intercourse with nature as possible, 
when they had the chance. Matters went on thus 
for several days. 


THE WORKERS 


223 


Although for some of them idleness was sure to 
be followed by want and distress, yet it did not 
seem to greatly worry or disturb them. Living as 
they constantly had been with but the thin veneer of 
a few days or weeks between them and destitution, 
they did not regard the present situation as much 
worse than usual. Some were dull and careless, and 
others were apprehensive but desperate. 

Although the Review plainly sympathized with the 
workers, it had constantly urged that no infraction 
of the public peace be made, and it was especially 
urgent that some way be devised to settle the differ- 
ences between employer and employed before not 
only each side to the controversy, but the city itself, 
should suffer a great, if not irreparable loss. 

It was thus things went on from day to day for 
nearly two weeks, when a new and more alarming 
situation was introduced by the statement of Royal 
Quincy, a brother-in-law of Ashbell, that the mill 
help who lived in certain tenements must move out 
or be evicted the first of June. It appeared that 
most of them had refused to pay the rent when due 
on the first of May, possibly anticipating the need 
of their ready money for other uses. 

Mr. Quincy, however, said he could not and would 
not allow families to occupy the tenements and not 
pay rent, when such conditions were brought about 
by their own foolishness. He knew that under ex- 


224 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


isting conditions the longer the men continued to live 
in the tenements, the less chance they would have of 
paying the rent — that they had the money to pay it 
when they were paid off at the mill, but that many 
of them would not be able to pay the two months 
due on the first of June, even if they were willing. 
It was known that an attorney had been busy pre- 
paring dispossess notices, which were to be served 
promptly when the day arrived, and this caused 
many of the workers to bear more hatred to Mr. 
Quincy even than to Mr. Ashbell, who as far as 
known, had not taken any such summary steps in the 
case of his own tenants. 

Frazier was confident that the tenements in ques- 
tion were owned by Ashbell, and that being “willing 
to wound, he was yet afraid to strike,” but in view 
of the inflamed feelings of the mill employes, he had 
used his brother-in-law as a cat’s paw to cripple and 
bring them to terms if possible. Yet there was no 
evidence that such was the case. 

Possibly, too, the public knowledge of the strained 
feeling between Ashbell and his sister, Mrs. Quincy, 
in relation to the division of some property in set- 
tlement of the family estate, deceived the workers 
as to the true facts. 

At all events, Quincy was the apparent author of 
the injury and evil as he was the instrument for its 
accomplishment. The rents had always been paid to 


THE HATRED 


225 


him and he had been known as the owner. He had 
never been popular with the workers and they were 
only too ready to wreak their vengeance upon the 
outward manifestation of wrong. 

His action fanned the smouldering coals of ill- 
feeling into a flame of hatred. 

“Suppose some one should take his home away 
from him?” one of the strikers was heard to say one 
day. 

“No such good news as that,” said another. “It’s 
by taking our homes away from us that makes him 
more sure of his own.’’ 

Just how much talk there was of this kind is un- 
certain, but there came reports that the strikers had 
threatened to burn Quincy’s house down, if he dis- 
possessed them from the tenements. This despite 
the fact that many claimed that Ashbell was at the 
bottom of the outrage. 

The strike had already lasted much longer than 
had been anticipated. Textile workers from other 
localities in the other labor unions had contributed to 
their support and all efforts to secure help to run the 
mill had been unavailing. An attempt was made to 
import workers from out of town, but in every in- 
stance they were met at the railway station by strik- 
ers’ pickets and either taken to the union headquart- 
ers where the situation was explained to them, or sent 
back to their homes at once. 


226 


fVHArS HE TO ME? 


Finally that blasting and cruel weapon, the boy- 
cott, was put into use. “Those who are not for us 
are against us,” was the cry. “They are against the 
home, the school, and the prosperous wage-working 
community; they are enemies of virtue and honor; 
they are friends only of industrial serfdom.” 

But as a rule those not directly concerned in the 
strike were extremely careful to express no opinion 
as to the merits of one side or the other. The re- 
tail merchants were free to publicly state that they 
fervently wished it would soon be settled, but that 
was all. Just what their real opinions were no one 
knew. Occasionally, one bolder or less judicious, or 
of stronger conviction, expressed himself against this 
cessation of a great industry by the act of the 
strikers. 

One grocer had the temerity to say that he did not 
blame Mr. Ashbell in the slightest. He said he be- 
lieved he had a right to run his own business as he 
pleased, and he hoped he would win a victory. His 
remark was reported at a meeting of the strikers at 
their hall and one of them immediately arose and 
said they would take the grocer at his word. 

“We will run our business as we please and not 
trade with him any more,” he said. In a few days 
the grocer’s trade had dwindled to practically noth- 
ing and report had it that he was able to continue 


THE DISPOSSESSING 


227 

in business only by the financial help and encourage- 
ment of Mr. Ashbell. 

Finally the first of June arrived, and with the dis- 
possess papers all prepared, deputy sheriffs went into 
the long row of tenements controlled by Mr. Quincy 
and succeeded in serving them. In some cases the 
families moved out at once, while the strikers, with 
nothing more exciting to do, stood on the streets and 
jeered the sheriffs and uttered groans for Mr. 
Quincy, the police, under the orders of Mayor Fur- 
man, standing by to see that no overt act was com- 
mitted. 

Meantime the Review did much to prevent law- 
lessness on the part of the strikers by praising their 
general conduct and counseling them that if they 
would continue to hold and merit approval and sup- 
port they must conduct themselves strictly in accord- 
ance with the requirements of the law. Although 
the families dispossessed found homes elsewhere 
among the other strikers and their friends, yet noth- 
ing thus far in the entire contest so served to stir up 
ill-feeling. Passing from mouth to mouth, the re- 
ports of hardship became magnified and the cold and 
unfeeling business course of Mr. Quincy became 
transformed by the strikers into the worst form of 
brutality to labor organizations. 

Ashbell neither condemned nor approved the ac- 
tion. Possibly, now that its full effect was apparent 


228 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


upon the general public as well as upon the strik- 
ers, he regretted it. But had he so expressed him- 
self, he would have invited exposure on the part of 
Quincy. On the other hand had he approved of 
Quincy’s act, he would have incurred the increased 
hatred and vengeance of the strikers. So he wisely 
said nothing. 


CHAPTER XXV 


Why seek at once to dive into 

The depth of all that meets your view ? 

Wait for the melting of the snow, 

And then you’ll see what lies below. 

— Goethe. 

Frazier had promised to meet a man on Mill 
street one afternoon after the Review had gone to 
press. As he walked along, reflecting sadly on the 
grim and silent mills, with pickets along the street, 
he came face to face with Miss Colton. 

After the first formal words of greeting, she said : 

“I am going to the creche to see Mrs. Rolka. 
Won’t you come too?” 

Frazier had heard about Miss Colton’s latest prac- 
tical charity but had not before an opportunity to 
see it. He took out his watch. 

“I have a man to see a little later on important 
business, but I have some time to spare. Yes, I 
would like to go.” 

“It is a good time to see it, for the babies have all 
had their naps and are consequently on their good 
behavior. It is pretty well occupied just now, for 
the men being on strike, compels more of their 
wives than usual to go out cleaning or washing or 
anything else they can get to do. In every war or 

229 


230 


rVHATS HE TO ME? 


political fight, the women have to bear their share 
of the burden,” Miss Colton continued, “and I 
sometimes think they have the heavy end of the load 
to carry. I wanted Mrs. Rolka to bring the chil- 
dren and come to live with me, but she preferred to 
stay here. She is not able to do heavy work just 
now and she is an ideal matron for the creche. All 
the women know her and realize she is such a good 
mother that they are willing to leave their children 
with her. Helen Warren has found many people to 
give her plain sewing and she does that at the same 
time she is taking care of the infants.” 

“Has she recovered from the death of poor Rolka 
in a measure?” asked Frazier. 

“No, that is a blow that will last a life-time, but 
she is becoming resigned and tranquil. There is no 
such cure for a sharp and sudden grief as the ap- 
pealing helplessness of others. The babies comfort 
her as nothing else could.” 

By this time they had passed down the quiet 
street, up some steep, dark stairs into a sunny airy 
room. It was literally full of infants. They were 
asleep in white iron cribs; they cooed and gurgled 
from jumpers and tiny chairs; and as Mrs. Rolka, 
clad in black, came forward to greet them, she had 
one in her arms. She smiled as she greeted Frazier. 

“Wasn’t it just like Miss Colton to think of it? 
Although it was started before the strike, it is need- 


THE FOSTERMOTHER 


231 


ed now far more than ever when the mothers are 
obliged to go anywhere or do anything to earn a few 
pennies.” 

“Who takes care of the older children? They 
must go somewhere while their mothers are away,” 
said Frazier. 

“The older children are in school, and the small 
ones go to the kindergarten in the morning. In the 
afternoon they come here,” she said, opening the 
door into an adjoining room. Some of them have 
luncheon here. Some young lady friends of Miss 
Colton take turns in coming down here and they 
look after the children. It is Miss Warren’s day 
to-day” — as Frazier stepped into the room. 

Helen appeared ill at ease, as she always did if 
caught in doing anything she thought could possibly 
be classed as sentimental or conventional. 

“Don’t you dare to come in and see me discipline 
my children,” she said, “for if you do. I’ll punish 
you.” 

As Frazier continued to walk boldly in, she turned 
to the children and said, “Mr. Frazier will tell you 
a story.” 

It was Frazier’s turn to be embarrassed, but he 
began to tell in his quiet way of the boys in New 
York and the gray squirrels in Central Park. How 
the wise and cunning little creatures, with their big 
bushy tails spread out like a train, can be seen every- 


232 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


where in the Park in the early morning, looking for 
all the world like graceful ladies dancing. How 
they sit on their haunches, begging for nuts, and how 
the bolder and braver ones will take them from the 
hand or the pocket of a trusted friend, and how with 
cheeks full, they run away and bury them in the 
ground. 

When he had finished, the children begged for 
more. So he told them how in the fall he had seen 
the robins, like a big army marching and counter- 
marching way up in the sky, preparatory to their 
long trip to the south, when they would fly miles 
above the sleeping city. 

Then the children sang for him, and played a 
game in which love and the gentle side of their na- 
tures was brought into play. 

“Isn’t Vera the best woman in the world?” com- 
mented Helen. “You have no idea what she has 
done during this strike. This is only a small part 
of it. The people don’t want money, save of course 
as it is donated to the general strike fund, but she is 
around among them so much that she knows just 
what each one needs most. There is one weaver 
who is as pale as a ghost — looks as if he were in the 
first stages of consumption. He ought to have wine 
and beef, good juicy roast beef every day, but what 
can a poor man do with nothing ahead and only the 
three dollars allowance of the strikers’ fund? Vera 


THE POVERTY 


233 


told his wife she wanted to come to dinner Sunday 
and if she would cook the dinner, she would bring 
it, and she ordered a much better roast than if she 
had been going to eat it at home. They might have 
resented it had she sent it in, but to bring it herself 
was a neighborly act of more common occurrence.” 

“But are you becoming interested in the work. 
Miss Warren?” Frazier asked. 

“One must be interested in such funny midgets as 
these children,” she said. “I never know what they 
will do next. Although I don’t know much about 
the strike, I have been into many of the homes of 
the strikers with Vera and I must say I find the wom- 
en as nice and companionable as most of those I meet 
in my own circle of friends. They have such hard 
times though that I don’t see how the young girls 
ever dare to get married.” 

“I suppose they want companionship more than 
anything else, and Love is not a very level-headed 
chap from all we can learn of him.” 

“Vera told me once of a family that was a veri- 
table personification of love in spite of poverty, so I 
had her take me there one day to see them. The 
lovelight she saw in their eyes, I could not recognize 
at all. All I could see was the bare kitchen, and the 
smell of corned beef and cabbage on the stove drove 
all the sentiment out of the picture for me. But 
then, I can’t say that love was not there, for I never 


234 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


could quite catch the poetry that others notice in 
Millet’s peasants.” 

“Frank and honest, as usual, I see. Miss War- 
ren,” said Frazier, looking down into the violet eyes 
that so often eluded him. “Well, I must go now, 
for I am a bit late. Good-bye.” 

Frazier went from his business appointment di- 
rectly to his hotel for supper. How he hated the 
regulation hotel dinner in the middle of the day with 
the light, monotonous supper at night. If he only 
had a home of his own ! That thought was upper- 
most in his mind as he entered the Review office. 
Donald was the only one there. Frazier detailed 
the various events of the afternoon. 

“Do you know, Don, Miss Warren is a big bluff. 
She tries to make every one believe that she looks on 
life as a huge joke and spurns all the sentiment and 
femininities. But it’s all put on.” 

“Have you just discovered that, Frazier?” re- 
marked Don quietly. 

“Well, what I saw and heard to-day clinches it. 
She pretended it was only to please Miss Colton that 
she was down there at the creche taking care of those 
children, but you could easily see that she loved them 
and they simply adore her. It was all I could do to 
keep from going down on my knees before them 
and confessing my admiration for her in real heroic 
fashion. Do you suppose she could learn to care 


THE SHOCK 


235 


for a fellow like me, Don? I don’t know much of 
women’s ways and peculiarities, but Miss Warren 
seems so companionable and unselfish within that at 
the same time you know she is way above you on a 
pedestal. Say, Don, old fellow, do you thing there 
is any chance?” 

“I should think there might be,” said Don 
simply. 

“But you know her better than I, Don; you’ve 
grown up with her. Has she ever said anything 
that would make you think she cared for me in the 
slightest?” 

Donald hesitated, and Frazier, who had been 
fumbling with an ink eraser looked up suddenly and 
inquiringly. Don’s face was white. The sight had 
the effect on Frazier of a sharp blow. Did Don 
himself care for Helen ? The thought came to him 
like the flash of an electric shock. Just then the 
telephone rang, with a sharp, imperative whirr. 
Don sprang to answer it. To Frazier it was a wel- 
come relief. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Laborin’ men and laborin’ women 
Have one glory an’ one shame; 

Everything that’s done inhuman 
Injures all on ’em the same. — L owell. 

“There’s some trouble brewing on Elm street in 
front of Mr. Quincy’s house,’’ came a voice. “A 
gang of strikers is up there. Better send a reporter 
up, right away.’’ 

“Trouble!’’ exclaimed Frazier to Don as the lat- 
ter hung up the receiver. “There can’t possibly be 
any attempt to attack Mr. Quincy, can there?’’ 

He seized his hat and rushed out of the office. 
Walking as rapidly as possible, he soon arrived in 
sight of Quincy’s imposing residence. There was a 
crowd of more than one hundred rather tough look- 
ing men and boys in the street before it. A police- 
man stood by a lamp post, his billy in his hand, and 
talking to a little knot of the crowd. 

“If you attempt anything in the slightest disor- 
derly, I shall not only telephone to the police station 
for the entire force, but will send in an alarm and 
call out the fire department as well,’’ said he. 
“You’d better disperse all of you and go home about 
your business.” 


237 


238 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“Some of us hain’t got no homes to go to,” said 
one. “Old Quincy has taken ’em away from us, and 
’twon’t do any harm to let him know how we feel.” 

“And you wouldn’t have any home, either,” added 
another to the policeman, “ef you had been workin’ 
down in that mill twelve hours for a dollar and a 
quarter a day. Why, take off them buttons of yours 
and you’d mighty soon feel like all the rest of us.” 

The crowd was evidently bent on mischief, al- 
though it lacked leadership and determination. 
Most of them were foreigners and a few could not 
speak English, but some were there evidently more 
out of curiosity than anything else. Yet there was 
a menacing spirit among them that forboded ill. 
The policeman again told them they had best dis- 
perse and go about their business, but they simply 
jeered at this, responding that they had as much 
right in the public streets as he had. Frazier went 
to the rear of the house, rang the bell and was at 
once admitted by a frightened servant. He was 
met by Mr. and Mrs. Quincy, the latter violently 
agitated, and the former evidently in fear, but still 
possessed of a grim determination not to be driven 
into any backward step or compromise. 

“Why, Mr. Frazier, what does all this mean?” 
exclaimed Mrs. Quincy. “Is it possible that things 
have come to such a pass that people are not secure 
in their homes? What do these men want? Is it 


THE MENACE 


239 


money? Do they want to kill Mr. Quincy? Or are 
they bent upon destroying this home that we have 
lived in so long and is so full of valuable heirlooms 
handed down to us by those who made the country 
what it is? Oh, it all comes of your being used as a 
cat’s-paw by James Ashbell,” said she, turning to 
her husband. “Why didn’t you let him do his own 
dirty work? I knew there would be trouble the 
minute you began dispossessing those people.” 
Again turning to Frazier, Mrs. Quincy said, “Why, 
those tenements don’t belong to Royal at all. They 
are owned by my brother, and he is the one to 
blame for turning out the mill workers. It’s time 
the truth was known. Royal, why don’t you go out 
and tell the crowd all about it? We have stood for 
this long enough.” 

“Because it would do no good. You can’t talk 
to such a crowd as that, and I don’t believe that 
there is one in the whole gang who was put out of 
those tenements.” 

Mr. Quincy was pacing back and forth very much 
agitated but evidently not quite sure what it was best 
to do. In one hand he held a revolver. 

“I shall use this, if these men attempt to get into 
my house,” said he to Frazier, holding out the 
weapon. “This home is my castle and I will defend 
it with my life.” 

“You are right, Mr. Quincy,” assented Frazier. 


240 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“You are justified in defending your home at any 
cost.” This was probably said with no thought of 
the homes that Mr. Quincy had been instrumental 
in destroying. Frazier added: “Don’t you think 
I had better go out on the porch and speak to the 
men and try to find out what they want and what 
they are going to do? They surely have nothing 
against me, and possibly I may be able to show them 
how foolish and short-sighted they are in making 
this demonstration.” 

“Do, do, Mr. Frazier, by all means! Tell them 
the truth about those tenements! Say anything or 
promise anything to get them away!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Quincy. 

Frazier put on his hat and passed out of the house 
to the front of the piazza. 

When he appeared the crowd turned to him cur- 
iously. Unconsciously almost, they for an instant 
ceased their talking, directing their attention solely 
toward him. He raised his hand as if to ask for 
silence and in a clear, although not unnecessarily 
loud voice said: 

“Men, men! You are making an awful mistake 
in coming up here in this way. I know your inten- 
tion is not to commit any violence. You have too 
much intelligence and self-respect for that. But 
whatever your purpose is, let me implore you to go 
no further. You have the right to strike — the right 


THE PEACEMAKER 


241 


to get the highest wages possible, and the right to 
protect your families and homes.” 

There were a few jeers at this, but evidently the 
greater proportion of the crowd had enough respect 
for Frazier’s opinion to want to hear him out for 
many of them regarded him as a friend. He con- 
tinued without interruption: 

“You have been so forbearing and orderly all 
through this long contest that I beg you to do noth- 
ing now to lower the public respect which you have 
had from the beginning and which is necessary for 
your final victory — a victory I am confident you will 
gain, and I believe in a very few days. Royal 
Quincy should by no means bear alone the odium 
of those evictions. There is another far more 
guilty, and if your demands are not considered in a 
fair way and the strike settled, I promise you I will 
expose the really guilty party, if it costs me all I am 
worth. Go home and think it over; have confidence 
in what I tell you. Two wrongs never made a right 
and never will.” 

“If old Quincy didn’t put us out, who did?” 
yelled a voice. 

“James Ashbell,” came in a high-pitched voice at 
his elbow. 

Frazier turned. There stood Mrs. Quincy. 

“Mrs. Quincy, I beg of you, go into the house. 


242 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Don’t excite the crowd any further, for Heaven’s 
sake.” 

But he could not stop the torrent of Mrs. Quincy’s 
words that followed. Fortunately, her excitement 
affected her voice and few caught the meaning of 
what she said further than that her brother and not 
her husband was responsible for dispossessing them. 

“Then we’ll kill Ashbell,” came from some one 
in the crowd. 

In an instant a howling, angry mob was rushing 
up the street. 

But Frazier at once sprang into the street and by 
the greatest effort again commanded the attention of 
the angry mob. His main desire was to have them 
disperse and go home, for he knew that with this 
warning the police officials would be prepared for 
any riotous actions or attacks upon Ashbell or his 
home. 

“One moment more,” cried Frazier to the crowd, 
which knowing him well by reputation and holding 
him in esteem, was inclined to give him. “How 
foolish, how silly,” he continued, “for you to be 
lawless and vicious without any definite plan as to 
who is responsible for your condition. Wait a few 
days and I promise you something will be done.” 

Whether the crowd would have taken Frazier’s 
advice or not will never be known, for at that instant 
a squad of police came hurrying up, and the strikers 


THE DESPERATE 


243 


melted away in every direction, some hurrying and 
others moving off rather slowly and sullenly. 
Frazier re-entered the house for a moment to re- 
assure Mr. and Mrs. Quincy and tell them that he 
hardly thought there would be any more trouble. 

“This matter,’’ said he, “has gone along about 
as far as it can. Things are at their worst. It is 
awful. The whole city is in a chronic state of dis- 
order and gloom, owing to this unhappy warfare of 
capital and labor. Something must be done to call 
a halt at once. Mr. Quincy, go to Mr. Ashbell 
tomorrow and ask him to use his greatest efforts to 
have the matter arbitrated. Let him do his part 
and I will see that the workers do theirs. And tell 
him if he does not,’’ he added impressively, “now 
that it is known upon whom the responsibility for the 
evictions rests, he will be obliged to suffer the con- 
sequences as he deserves. The strikers are des- 
perate enough already. If further inflamed it will 
be impossible to avoid bloodshed.” 

Thoroughly alarmed, Quincy promised that this 
should be done. Mrs. Quincy added that Mr. Ash- 
bell was a most obstinate man and although not on 
the best of terms with herself, he was friendly 
enough to her husband. With this Frazier bade 
them good night and returned to the office, deeply 
impressed and disturbed with what had just trans- 
pired, 




CHAPTER XXVII 


No prayer, no religion, or at least only a dumb and lame one. — 
Carlyle. 

The hearts of men are their books, events are their tutors. — 
Macaulay. 

It was the usual weekly prayer meeting at the 
Baptist church, the leading religious institution in 
the city. The strike had spread a feeling of gloom 
over the entire community and the attendance was 
far larger than usual, for when men by their own 
selfishness or lack of discretion get into trouble and 
the outlook seems especially dark, they are inclined 
to seek relief from divine rather than from human 
agency. The entire business of the city was prac- 
tically paralyzed, the retail trade suffering especially 
by the industrial stagnation. Neither side being 
amenable to overtures of peace, with one accord the 
good members of the church met to supplicate the 
Deity to see if He would set the wheels of the mill 
in motion as well as the smaller cog wheels of their 
own individual interests. 

Rev. Mr. Sterling, the pastor, made a prayer 
with this purpose in view, throwing the burden of the 
origin of the strike from the shoulders of both Mr. 
Ashbell and the workers upon the Lord, who had 
245 


246 WHATS HE TO MEf 

created such a condition for His own good purpose. 
He closed by expressing his confidence that the Al- 
mighty would terminate the conflict in His own good 
time and in His own way and to His praise and 
glory. Not every ordained minister of the gospel 
can be wholly forgetful of the proprieties of such a 
crisis, especially when the prosperity of the church 
depends largely upon one of the parties to the quar- 
rel. 

After the singing of a hymn with intense fervor 
on the part of all, James Ashbell rose and as a most 
humble Christian disciple asked for Divine guidance 
in the critical situation with which the city was con- 
fronted. He implored that his fellow churchmen 
pray for him and that they might beseech the Lord 
to lead the strikers to a clearer understanding of 
their moral obligation as well as to their account- 
ability to a higher power. It was really a fine 
verbal petition, but what his fellow communicants 
thought of it will never be known. Probably the 
greater proportion felt he was speaking from the 
depths of an earnest if not exactly contrite heart, and 
for an unselfish purpose. But it is was evident that 
one person thought differently. Hardly had Mr. 
Ashbell resumed his seat before Mrs. Royal Quincy 
arose. Rev. Mr. Sterling seemed to be uneasy as 
he observed that irrepressible woman was to be the 
next speaker. Many of the worshippers partly 


THE SCRIPTURE 


247 


turned in their seats as she began with composure 
and deliberation to read selections from the New 
Testament which she held in her hand: 

“Ye hypocrites, well did Esaias prophesy of you, 
saying, 

“This people draweth nigh unto me with their 
mouth, and honoreth me with their lips; but their 
heart is far from me. 

“But in vain do they worship me, teaching for 
doctrines the commandments of men. 

“For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, false 
witness, blasphemies: 

“These are the things which defile a man; but to 
eat with unwashed hands defileth not a man. 

“Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! 
for ye make clean the outside of the cup and platter 
but within ye are full of extortion and excess. 

“Thou blind Pharisee, cleanse first that which is 
within the cup and platter, that the outside may be 
clean also.” 

Mrs. Quincy’s purpose was somewhat bewildering 
to many who heard it. Possibly, however. Rev. 
Mr. Sterling understood her meaning and he seemed 
somewhat relieved when she had concluded. There 
were others among those present likewise who were 
aware of the relations of the brother and sister and 
understood the rebuke intended. Mr. Ashbell’s face 
was somewhat clouded, but he gave no sign. After 


248 


JVHATS HE TO MEf 


the meeting was over, there were just a few quiet 
remarks in the vestibule and on the way home con- 
cerning the possible effect of Mrs. Quincy’s scrip- 
ture reading. Some criticized the taste of such a 
unique effort. They said they could see no appli- 
cation to it although they surmised it might be in- 
tended for Mr. Ashbell. Others defended it and 
said the sentiments were always good to drive into 
the heart. A white haired old man, whom every 
one liked, and who never gave way to either passion 
or prejudice, said judicially: 

“Whatever we may say or think of the differences 
between James Ashbell and his sister, or the pros 
and cons of the strike, we cannot but admit that the 
rebuke was the stroke of a general and went straight 
to the mark. Whatever Mildred Quincy’s faults 
may be — and I have known her all her life — she is 
a fair fighter. There is nothing underhanded about 
her. She employs no one else to fight her battles 
or to strike her blows. If she feels injury in her 
heart, she does not nurse and coddle it, wearing a 
serene or smiling face. She believes in shooting 
directly at the enemy and something like her advice 
tonight, to ‘cleanse first that which is within the cup 
and platter.’ Hatred is the mother of many ills, but 
when love in our hearts is not powerful enough to 
overcome its twin sister of darkness, then I say let 
the hate be open, and not concealed under a smile 


THE TRANSMUTION 


249 


or a handshake. We don’t any of us read our Tes- 
taments enough. We forget both the letter and 
the spirit. What a pity it is we cannot always re- 
member that God is really love and that all men are 
brothers.” 

And the shafts of hate by the transmuting power 
of a few gentle words became shafts of light and 
tolerance after all. 

Frazier heard of the unique occurrence at the 
prayer meeting and was somewhat amused that Mrs. 
Quincy had carried out her threat. But he gave 
little thought to it, as just at this period the strike 
brought hard work as well as anxiety in the Review 
office. The news of both sides and speculation as 
to the outcome was the sole topic of interest to its 
readers. It meant exacting work on the part of the 
small editorial force, and Frazier had the rather 
difficult task of writing editorials that would not an- 
tagonize either side unnecessarily or make the breach 
wider, for no one more than he wished for a speedy 
settlement of the blighting conflict. After the excit- 
ing scene at the Quincy residence he felt that an 
outbreak might be expected at any time. 

Saturday evening came. It was one of respite, 
with no paper to be published the next day. Frazier 
determined to go to see the Warrens. He had not 
been there for some time and he needed fresh in- 
spiration and more even than that a quiet and peace- 


250 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


ful atmosphere. When he had changed his attire 
and was ready to go, he began to feel like another 
man. We often leave our old discouragements 2nd 
worries in the garments we have worn in the midst 
of them. 

“I am glad that some one is at home,” said Fra- 
zier, as he went up the steps and noted the bright 
light in the library. Helen answered the bell her- 
self. 

“Why, Mr. Frazier, come in,” she exclaimed, with 
evident pleasure. “I hardly expected to see you 
here until the strike was settled.” 

“I thought so too; but I simply had to come up 
here to be cheered up. Please let me smoke in the 
corner while you play and sing something.” 

“What shall it be?” asked , Helen. “German 
classics or Bowery jingles? Lively or sentimental ?” 

“Anything you choose, so it isn’t pathetic. I’ve 
seen enough of sorrow and pathos in the last few 
days to last for some time.” 

Helen went to the piano and sang in her fresh 
sweet voice simple ballads and popular songs that 
completely changed Frazier’s mood. He had 
shaken off the shadows that surrounded him and saw 
only the sunshine in the world. 

After Helen had sung awhile, she came and sat 
down near Frazier. She was careful, however, to 
avoid all mention of the strike or anything pertain- 


THE SECRET 


251 


ing to it, knowing that he had enough of that topic 
in his ordinary business. The conversation pro- 
ceeded for some time without much of importance 
being said, when she suddenly asked: 

“What is the matter with Gordon?’’ 

“Why, what do you mean? He was all right 
when I left the office at seven o’clock.” 

“I don’t refer to his health but his spirits. He 
seems to have utterly changed recently. He used to 
come here often, but I see him rarely now, and al- 
though it may be my imagination, he looks troubled 
as if he were worrying over something. Do you 
know what it is?” asked Helen. 

“He hasn’t taken me into his confidence.” 

“I tried to coax him to tell me the last time he 
was here, and possibly he may not have liked it, for 
he hasn’t been here since and that was two weeks 
ago. If he is in any trouble, it is the first he hasn’t 
told me about. When we were the smallest of chil- 
dren he kept no secrets from me and this has been 
the case until recently ever since. Gordon is a little 
peculiar and it is only his near friends who under- 
stand him. Few indeed know and appreciate the big 
heart that throbs in his breast. And he understands, 
me, too. He is about the only one who ever did, 
except my father. He hasn’t said anything about 
me, has he? I haven’t offended him in any way, 
have I?” asked Helen anxiously. 


252 


WHATS HE rO MEf 


“No, I am sure you have not,” returned Frazier 
earnestly. 

“You don’t know how I miss him, and yet I would 
not ask him to call to see us if he does not wish to. 
He ought to give me his confidence — he used to.” 

“I am quite sure he will when the right time comes. 
I know by experience how I must wait for just the 
mood before taking a friend into my confidence, and 
you know we do not lay bare our secret griefs or 
joys as we would discuss the latest gossip.” 

“I know that,” said Helen. “I jest about things 
so much that I am afraid Gordon often thinks I 
am not serious enough. But somehow my feeling 
toward him is just a little different since he saved my 
life that day of the runaway with Betsy. I know 
you are my friend,” she said, looking up into Fra- 
zier’s face, “and if there is anything that is not right 
with Gordon you will let me know.” 

And Frazier, looking down into the violet eyes, 
said as solemnly as though registering a vow, “You 
may count on me to do anything to make you 
happy.” 

Little did Helen realize how much she had called 
upon Frazier to do. With the intuition of a lover, 
Frazier divined the truth. It came to him like an 
illuminating flash to a storm-lost traveler. Helen 
and Don loved each other. Their love had grown 
so silently in its strength that Helen until now did 


THE RENUNCIATION 


253 


not fully realize what it meant. “Yet Don always 
has,” mused Frazier, as he recalled the tense ex- 
pression on his face when they spoke of Helen not 
long before. Frazier rose abruptly. 

“Good night. Miss Warren; you have made me 
forget everything save this cosy room and yourself. 
It is hard to forget, sometimes,” he said slowly. 

Helen held out her hand frankly. How he 
longed to hold her just once in his arms, as he had 
a brief moment in the waltz at the Astronomical 
Party. 

How or when he got home, he never knew. He 
walked for hours, and when he finally reached his 
little room at the City Hotel, he flung the windows 
wide. He had the same choking sensation that the 
hunter or backwoodsman has when he first sleeps 
under a roof after months in the open. He threw 
himself into a chair by the window. 

“Poor old Don,” he mused, as he sat there looking 
out into the deserted street. “How I must have 
tortured you without knowing it and after all you 
have done for me.” 

Every pleasant occurrence in connection with the 
Review or with his material success seemed due to 
Donald. It was Don who had possessed the cooler 
head in many a small tempest that had menaced the 
career of the Review; Don who had warned him 
against this one and advised him of the worth of 


254 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


that. Then Don it was who had procured the $io,- 
ooo, which had not only relieved him of the crip- 
pling burden of an insistent creditor, but had given 
him the freedom to run the Review as his conscience 
dictated. Don had done more; he had trusted his 
very heart’s treasure with him. He had praised him 
to Helen until she had come to like him, and now 
when he fancied that he himself loved her, he was 
keeping away so that he might win her, if he could. 
And in return for all this, what had Frazier done? 
He had betrayed his friend’s trust — not only tried 
to make love to the woman Don loved, but dared to 
speak of it to him. Frazier knew perfectly well that 
Uncle Ben was on his own side and that Mrs. Hunt- 
ington encouraged his attention, although he knew 
that Donald commanded as he deserved, their ad- 
miration. 

“Poor Don,” he mused again. “Why shouldn’t 
Helen love you?” Didn’t he himself love him as 
much as if he were a brother? 

“Love is sacrifice,” said Frazier, unconsciously 
voicing Miss Colton’s sentiment. “Fll do it, Don.” 
And as Frazier looked out upon the tin roofs and 
the rows of factory chimneys beyond, the moon rose 
in a cloudless sky, slowly, majestically. He watched 
it for a while. He looked at his watch. It was 
three o’clock. He went to bed and tried to sleep, 
but always before his eyes floated a sweet happy 


THE VICTORY 


255 


face, with violet eyes, and near it a man’s, white as 
marble, with an expression in his eyes of mute ap- 
peal. A cock crowed lustilly and the moon sailed 
higher and higher into the clearer sky. But still 
Frazier fought his battle. He tossed on his bed 
and reasoned and planned. Finally he grew quieter. 
He felt the hush that comes just before the dawn, 
and out of the stillness rose the clear, joyous, jubilant 
note of a robin. 

Then Frazier dropped into a peaceful sleep. 




CHAPTER XXVIII 

The good deeds of men can never be hid from the gods. — Latin 
Proverb. 

It was Sunday, and Frazier had promised to take 
dinner with Miss Colton. He had seen her quite 
often during this strike. She had been actively en- 
gaged among the women and children doing what 
she could in the way of verbal encouragement and 
material aid. 

“Women are like the privates in an army,” she 
said to Frazier, when they were both seated in a 
corner of the conservatory where Miss Colton al- 
ways entertained her visitors. “They have nothing 
to do but to follow orders, and must make the best 
of difficulties. The men who are in the midst of 
the fight have the excitement to keep them up, but 
women must be kept up by hope alone.” 

“But the generals in this battle we are watching 
are becoming discouraged,” said Frazier. “There 
is a stronger enemy than Ashbell that has lately 
entered the field, and that is Hunger. The strike 
funds are getting low and it is too bad, for ten days 
more of resistance and I think Ashbell would be 
willing to make concessions. I have urged Mr. 
Quincy to see him and say to him that to hold oiit 
257 


258 


WHAT’S HE TO ME? 


longer against arbitration will be against his own 
interests. I hope he will be able to convince him 
of the necessity of immediate action.” 

‘‘Do you think there is the slightest doubt of his 
refusal?” asked Miss Colton. 

‘‘I don’t know; I can only hope. Ashbell will 
never give in if he believes there is a possibility of 
winning by force. As there are informers and spies 
in all camps, there are a few in that of the strikers 
and they keep him informed as to general conditions. 
They have been on besieged garrison rations for 
some time. Ashbell knows that a week or ten days 
won’t affect his existing contracts but I happen to 
know that he is now beginning to feel a little anxious 
about them and would be glad to see the mill in 
operation again. Of course I can say nothing today 
but tomorrow I am going to make the strongest kind 
of an effort to have arbitration begun at once.” 

“If he should refuse to make any concessions or 
leave the matter out to an arbitration board, would 
not the men be obliged to eventually give in — be 
starved into accepting his terms?” asked Miss Col- 
ton. 

“Not if contributions can be secured for the 
strikers’ fund. Public sympathy is stronger than 
may be imagined. You have noticed in the Re- 
view that a good many contributions have been sent 
in and this gives the workers renewed courage. The 


THE ASPIRATION 


259 


struggle has been a long one, but resources have not 
yet all been exhausted. However, don’t let this 
matter weigh upon your mind too heavily. The 
work you are doing is a noble one and the strikers 
deeply appreciate it.” 

“I shall certainly not, and yet my heart is with 
the men and the women too in their struggle for a 
decent living. But suppose we forget the strike 
for the moment while you see my latest variety of 
orchid. Some time I want to go into the thickest 
South American forest and hunt the orchids where 
they grow. We all have our peculiar ambitions but 
I think I should rather discover a new specimen of 
orchid than to be poet laureate.” 

“It is fortunate we do not all strive for the 
same prize,” laughed Frazier, “or there would be 
a good many more heartaches than there are now.” 

“I aspired once,” she continued, “to be a famous 
artist, and rank with Rosa Bonheur, Henriette Ron- 
ner or Angelica Kauffman — I was very impartial as 
to class — but my ambition is more modest now.” 

“So is mine,” said Frazier. “I was sure to be 
a famous journalist, known all over the world, but 
here I am working in a small city, trying to get out 
a newspaper for a clientele which for the most part 
neither appreciates nor wants anything save the com- 
monplaces of life, and doing every kind of work 
from fixing the press to reporting a ‘surprise party.’ ” 


26 o 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“I think you underrate yourself, Mr. Frazier. 
You should go down on Mill street to hear yourself 
praised, and the opinion of the common people is 
the sincerest and the most honest. They are not 
trained to subterfuge and may not appreciate fine 
English, but they feel the truth and I have found 
better propensities among the poor than among the 
rich.” 

And it was with this thought uppermost in his 
mind that on his return Frazier stopped at the of- 
fice. He had not been there long before the tele- 
phone rang. 

“Are you going to be in the office for fifteen or 
twenty minutes, and are you alone?” he was asked. 

Frazier replied that he was. 

“Then I’ll be up there directly.” 

He had not waited long before Denny McGrath 
appeared. Frazier took him into his little den and 
he unfolded his mission at once. “Ever since the 
last election,” said he, “and since this strike begun. 
I’ve been thinkin’ of the poor divils who are out on 
the strates, many ov ’em without a cint to their 
names, an’ I sed to mesilf, ‘How did ye happen to 
get the money ye’ve got, Denny McGrath? Was 
it from the high-mucky-mucks, or just the plain work- 
ers in the mill? An’ how much did Jim Ashbell 
help ye to get?’ Now ye’re not to be sayin’ a word 
of what I be tellin’ ye, for what I am about to do 


THE IMPULSE 


261 


is me own business and belongs to no one else. Jim 
Ashbell and mesilf have business relations together, 
an’ it’s entirely onnecessary for me to offind him or 
let him know what I be goin’ to do. But I want to 
see these men win this sthrike. What they be ask- 
in’ for is only dacent wages. Shure, what good is 
a man to the city or to himsilf or to his wife and 
family, if he only has a dollar and a quarter a day? 
When a man has got a little money in his pocket, 
he sphends it at the grocery store, and in some cases 
— although he shouldn’t — for a glass of beer or a 
glass of whiskey. Now I don’t want to see any one 
spend money in the saloon when it should go to his 
family, but it’s very often that poverty makes a man 
a drunkard, and I must admit that it’s very often 
that drunkenness makes a man poor. Now I’ve got 
five hundred dollars right here in me pocket, and I 
want ye to add it to the sthrikers’ fund, and put it 
down to A Friend of the Workers, and don’t ye be 
tellin’ a soul where ye got it. I’ve a right to do with 
me own as I like, but there are certin influences in 
the city that I don’t want to know what I be doing.” 

Mr. McGrath thereupon put his hand in his 
pocket and took out five one hundred dollar bills. 
He pressed them into Frazier’s hand with, 

“Now, mind ye, don’t ye be sayin’ a word to any 
wan.” 

Frazier was astonished and pleased. He prom- 


262 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


ised Mr. McGrath that his secret should be in- 
violable and the latter soon left him to his writing. 
Although he would have much preferred that Mc- 
Grath’s gift should not be anonymous, yet he appre- 
ciated his feeling that otherwise he would have in- 
curred the displeasure of an unscrupulous power 
that would hesitate at nothing to punish him for it. 
Besides the thought came to him that although good 
deeds may be hidden from men, they cannot be hid- 
den from the Power that is behind all goodness. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A fair day’* wages for a fair day’s work, is as just a demand a* 
governed men ever made of governing; yet in what corner of this 
planet was that ever realized? — C arlyle. 

Frazier was active early the next day. The out- 
break at Quincy’s still alarmed him. Some of the 
strikers would face unmoved beggary and wretched- 
ness for themselves, but they were tortured by the 
fear that their families would soon suffer, and they 
were becoming reckless and desperate. Ignorance 
and want do not go well together, and Frazier knew 
that so long as envy of the fortunate millionaire 
rather than of the system which enabled him to be- 
come such, inspired the mass of the strikers, there 
was liable to be trouble at any time. He went at 
once to the strikers’ headquarters and had a long 
conference with the leaders. 

“Another demonstration like that before Quincy’s 
house,’’ he said, “will cause a complete revulsion of 
public feeling, and you can’t afford to get the self- 
respecting element of the city down on you. Ashbell 
is now willing to arbitrate; I’m sure of it. Select 
two of your men whom you can depend upon, but 
let them be men who can see both sides of the mat- 
ter. Ashbell will select two, and let the four choose 
263 


264 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


a disinterested outsider. Get together quickly and 
have this ruinous contest settled at once. Some of 
your people are already suffering, and you are not 
holding together as well as you imagine. If the mill 
gates were to be opened next Monday morning I 
believe you would find several hundred going back 
to work. Now is the time to arbitrate before it is 
too late.” 

There were some objections to this, especially 
from the chairman of the strikers’ committee. 

“There is nothing to arbitrate,” said he at the out- 
set. “We have asked nothing but what we must 
have and what is ours by right and justice. There 
is but one side to the question, and that is, we were 
working for fully fifteen per cent less wages than 
they get in other mills for doing the same kind of 
work. We simply ask that we get the same that is 
paid elsewhere. Any one ought to see the fairness 
of our claim.” 

“This being so then you should be all the more 
willing to submit the matter to arbitration,” sug- 
gested Frazier. “If justice be plainly on your side 
then an honest and intelligent arbitration committee 
easily will see it.” 

It required much diplomatic urging, bordering on 
supplication, before the committee would even listen 
to the suggestion, but the strikers were to have their 
usual daily meeting at 10 o’clock that morning, and 


THE CONSENT 


265 


it was finally decided to put the matter to a vote 
and let them decide it. The result was an over- 
whelming majority in its favor. 

As soon as the outcome of the meeting reached 
Frazier, he again waited upon the committee and 
asked that the news be given the widest publicity 
through the press. 

“It will renew public confidence and hope, and act 
as a restraint upon any who are inclined to be reck- 
less at least until the decision of the committee be 
reached,” he remarked. Then he hurried off to 
Mr. Quincy’s office. He found that gentleman had 
already seen Ashbell. 

“He’s ready to arbitrate, Mr. Frazier,” said 
Quincy, “but I had to work to get his consent to do 
it. When I told him that if he refused I proposed 
to let the strikers know who alone stood against 
a settlement and that I would not longer be respon- 
sible for the safety of his own life and property, he 
sent for the chief of police who told him that he had 
hard work to get his men to protect property and 
maintain the public peace as they should, on account 
of their sympathy with the strikers. Fie didn’t like 
it, but he finally consented. He said he would 
select the members of the committee for the mill, 
and he has done so. They are to meet this after- 
noon and select a fifth member, and begin their 
work tomorrow if possible. I never want to see 


266 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


anything like this again. Why, Mrs. Quincy has 
not had an hour’s sound sleep since the mob at my 
house, and she’s got more grit than most women. 
Saying nothing about the mill and the strikers, the 
affair has cost the city at large hundreds of thou- 
sands of dollars; it won’t get over it for a year.” 

Frazier returned to the Review office and wrote 
an editorial complimenting both sides on their de- 
cision, and expressing the hope that the most melan- 
choly warfare was nearly over and that the two 
forces, which were in a sense allies, would soon be 
co-operating again, and the whole city resume its 
usual activity and prosperity. Late that afternoon 
he received word that he himself had been selected 
for the fifth member of the arbitration committee. 
His first impulse was to decline. It was a thankless 
task at best. His sympathies were with the work- 
ers, and perhaps so much so that he might be a 
prejudiced referee. And yet he felt confident that 
the question was not wholly one-sided. He had be- 
come accustomed to consulting Donald more than 
formerly. He found his judgment so rational and 
his impulses so wise that he had learned to look upon 
him as his fidus Achates. So he asked his opinion. 

“By all means, do it,” exclaimed Don. “You can 
hardly refuse after having been so urgent in pre- 
scribing arbitration. Besides, it is a duty you owe 
the public. I’ll stand sponsor for your fairness.” 


THE INVITATION 


267 


That settled it for Frazier, and he immediately 
sent back word that he would accept. The commit- 
tee was to meet the next day, go down to the mill, 
look over the payroll books and such other records 
as were deemed proper and advisable, and the fol- 
lowing day meet for discussion and judgment. 

Frazier met Mr. Ashbell at the office of the big 
factory the following morning and much to his sur- 
prise, the millionaire mill owner grasped his hand 
warmly. 

“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Frazier,” he said. 
”You’re a very busy man and so am I and I don’t 
meet you often. I read your paper regularly, how- 
ever, and am glad to see you doing so well with it.” 

Before the committee left, Mr. Ashbell found 
an opportunity to tell Frazier that there were to 
be two or three guests at his house that evening, 
one or two New York business men, the local Baptist 
minister — and would not Frazier also call around? 
It was to be quite informal, and now that this strike 
seemed to have a prospect of speedy settlement, he 
was easier in mind as well as happier. Besides he 
felt somewhat guilty that he was not better ac- 
quainted with the editor of their leading local news- 
paper. 

Frazier was taken somewhat by surprise. He 
had reason to believe that Ashbell was extremely 
unfriendly to him. His action during the trying 


268 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


period when Frazier was having his trouble with 
Piggott, the report from McGrath that he had 
wanted no favors shown the Review, together with 
other facts of the same general import, led Frazier 
to believe that Ashbell was still his enemy. He 
knew he had not conducted the Review in a way to 
meet the mill-owner’s approbation, neither during 
the recent political campaign nor since the strike had 
begun, but possibly Ashbell might be anxious for an 
understanding and more friendliness in the future. 
Possibly, on the other hand, he desired that Frazier 
should call at his house in order to try to influence 
him in making his decision as a member of the arbi- 
tration committee. But this could hardly be. Fra- 
zier was inclined to take men at their best rather 
than at their worst, so he rather reluctantly prom- 
ised Ashbell that he would be there although for a 
short call only. 

Mr. Ashbell’s residence was the most imposing 
one in town. It was situated at the head of Elm 
street and surrounded by a handsome and spacious 
lawn. No expense had been spared in its construc- 
tion, and it comprehended everything needful for 
comfort and luxury, both inside and out, save the 
indispensable requisite of taste; that was wanting 
everywhere. The architecture of the house was non- 
descript — a combination of colonial and Gothic, 
each neutralizing the effect of the other. Frazier 


THE OSTENTATION 


269 


hurried up the graveled walk into the spacious vesti- 
bule, which was lighted by an ostentatious electrolier. 
Inside, the velvet carpets were so soft and yielding 
as to be almost uncomfortable, as if an attempt had 
been made to overdo luxury. The furnishings all 
bore the hall mark of price and quality. Pictures 
galore were on the walls and they were splendidly 
framed, prominent among them being a portrait of 
Mr. Ashbell himself and one of Mrs. Ashbell, 
painted by a well known artist. 


CHAPTER XXX 


Argument can not do the work of instruction any more than 
blows can take the place of sunlight. — Mildmay. 

Mr. Ashbell himself met Frazier in the hall and 
held out his hand cordially. “Glad to see you, Mr. 
Frazier. Come right in. I think you have met 
Rev. Mr. Sterling before, and this is Mr. Bostwick, 
and this Mr. Cholmody, business friends of mine 
from New York. Mr. Frazier, gentlemen — the 
editor of our local evening paper.” 

Frazier bowed and was seated. 

“We were just speaking of the strike as you came 
in, and of the general relation of capital and labor,” 
said Mr. Ashbell. “I understand you are elected 
a member of the arbitration committee to settle the 
trouble at the mill, and perhaps it would not be just 
— er — proper, to speak upon that case, as you will 
soon be called to act upon it. But we can at least 
finish the subject we were on when Mr. Frazier 
came in, can’t we, without any breach of er — er — of 
etiquette?” 

With the exception of Frazier, they all concluded 
they could; it was the burning topic of the day, they 
said, and they hoped that by discussion all would 
271 


272 JVHATS HE TO ME? 

become better posted on it and know which side was 
to blame. 

“As I was saying when you came in, Mr. Frazier,” 
continued Ashbell, “I began about forty years ago 
with practically nothing, and have always paid dollar 
for dollar and never cheated a man out of a cent. 
There isn’t a man down at the mill that works harder 
or more hours than I do, and I think that a man who 
has built up a big business by hard work ought to be 
able to say something as to how it should be run. 
I don’t want any one to interfere with my business 
and I don’t want to interfere with his’n.” 

Mr. Ashbell occasionally relapsed into his early 
New England English, although “his’n” was the 
most conspicuous example of it. He stopped to 
await the approval of his listeners, for he had ar- 
rived at that state of wealth and power which gave 
his opinions not only toleration but usually ardent 
assent. Consequently Mr. Bostwick exclaimed, 
“That’s it, exactly I” Mr. Cholmody nodded em- 
phatically, and Rev. Mr. Sterling observed with sym- 
pathetic seriousness — 

“Yes, the man who makes a large investment of 
capital in any business can’t afford to let others dic- 
tate his policy or run it for him. Such a course 
would bankrupt him in a little while. And yet I 

think that both sides should practice the Golden Rule 
>> 


more. 


THE DICTATOR 


273 


“But can a man with only a small capital any bet- 
ter afford to let others run his business for him than 
one with a large capital?” suggested Frazier. 

“No, of course not. The man’s small capital is 
just as important to him as if it were large.” 

“Well, suppose he hasn’t got any capital whatever 
but the work of his hands; can he then afford to al- 
low any one else to dictate what he shall sell that for 
and thus run his business for him?” was Frazier’s 
next question. 

Mr. Sterling was sure he could not. But Ashbell, 
seeing at once how the subject was drifting, inter- 
posed with: 

“Ah, but Mr. Frazier, I don’t attempt to dictate 
what wages men shall work for; I only claim the 
right to dictate what wages men shall work for me 
for. There is a distinction, you see.” 

“Very true. But neither do your men attempt to 
dictate what you shall pay; they only claim the right 
to dictate what they shall work for, or at least the 
right to have something to say about it. So you see 
they are only exercising the same right you claim for 
yourself,” was Frazier’s response. 

“You are mistaken,” said Ashbell, rather warmly. 
“They not only want to dictate their own wages, but 
they keep others from taking the places they have 
left and with which they have nothing to do. That’s 
what I find fault about.” 


274 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“But they have just as much right to do that as 
you have to urge your competitors to not lower the 
prices of their goods or to urge purchasers not to 
buy of others but rather to purchase of you,” in- 
sisted Frazier. 

“Very well, we will even allow that. But they 
have no right to keep others from taking their places 
by threats and intimidation.” 

“Of course not. No one has the right to do any- 
thing unlawful. But as we seem to be considering 
your own case, allow me to say that they have not 
done anything of the kind. Whenever any workers 
have come here to take their places they have merely 
met them, explained the matter and persuaded them 
to return to their homes. That comes back again 
to a matter of business.” 

Mr. Cholmody here interposed with : 

“But what I object to is the interference with in- 
dividual liberty. When you do that, you strike at 
the very bulwarks of free institutions and completely 
block the wheels of effort and progress.” 

“It all depends upon what form of individual lib- 
erty you strike at,” said Frazier, now rather warm 
himself. “It is our right, our duty and our custom 
to strike at individual liberty whenever it interferes 
with the general material or moral welfare. Our 
very excellent fish and game laws, forbidding fishing 
or shooting except at certain prescribed periods, are 


THE REASONER 


275 


an interference with individual liberty, but this is 
to promote the material welfare, while some of our 
Sunday laws restricting individual liberty have as 
wisely been made to promote the moral welfare.” 

“Very true,” said Cholmody, “but we don’t be- 
lieve that preventing a man from working for what 
he likes and where he likes is a help to the material 
welfare.” 

“And there is where you and the workers differ,” 
responded Frazier. “They believe that the highest 
wages and the utmost prosperity of the wage-work- 
ers enhances the general welfare more than anything 
else.” 

“Yes, but if we pay too high wages, we shall be 
ruined and be obliged to go out of business,” inter- 
jected Ashbell, rather complainingly. 

“And on the other hand, the workers claim that 
if they are obliged to work for too small wages, they 
will be ruined, and as this would seriously affect the 
market for your goods, you yourself might still be 
ruined on the other horn of the dilemma. Ah, gen- 
tlemen, there are two sides to this labor problem. 
It is well to see both,” remarked Frazier earnestly. 
“But I question whether I am not indiscreet in dis- 
cussing a matter which is so nearly akin to that upon 
which I shall be called upon to act to-morrow. I 
am supposed to be, and I think I am, the unpartisan 


276 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


member of the arbitration committee, so suppose we 
change the subject.” 

But Mr. Ashbell was not disposed to act upon 
Frazier’s suggestion. It now began to be evident 
that he invited him to his house for the express pur- 
pose of trying to influence him in making his deci- 
sion, and to draw him out as to his feelings concern- 
ing the strike. This he thought he had done, and 
from his view point Frazier’s sympathies were 
strongly in favor of the strikers. Mr. Ashbell saw 
a point that he thought would be effective. He re- 
marked : 

“But Mr. Frazier, this arbitration board is sup- 
posed to be a fair one. I was given to understand 
that two members of it were to be those of my own 
choosing, two members from the strikers’ side, and 
the fifth should be neutral — a balance so as to make 
a compromise. You are evidently as one-sided as 
the members chosen by the strikers themselves. I 
don’t consider such an arbitration board a fair one 
and I am not bound to abide by its verdict.” 

“You don’t mean to say that you will not stand 
by the finding of the board, if it decides against you, 
or that you are not going to carry out your 
promise?” 

“I mean to say,” — and Ashbell brought his clench- 
ed fist down upon his knee — “that I’ll never submit 
to the claims of any such committee.” 


THE ADVICE 


277 

“Then you should never have agreed to have done 
so in the first place.’’ 

“But I supposed I should have an impartial tri- 
bunal — one that would decide fairly according to the 
facts,’’ said Ashbell rather savagely. 

“And so you will, so far as it is possible for me to 
accomplish it. But are you sure you want that?’’ 

“Yes, and only that. You must remember, Mr. 
Frazier, that arbitration will not enable me to pay 
my help any higher wages even if every man in the 
city insists upon it.” 

“Nor will it enable your help to work for any less, 
if the whole city insisted on it. Don’t forget to see 
both sides of the question, Mr. Ashbell. You have 
decided to leave this matter to an arbitration com- 
mittee for settlement. If you now change your mind 
you make a grave error. Public sentiment is by no 
means all on your side, and the strikers can still live 
for some time, even though the mill remains closed. 
The gift of five hundred dollars for the benefit of 
the workers which you have probably heard of to-day 
has encouraged them, and they are not likely to give 
in except upon the terms finally made by the arbitra- 
tion committee.” 

“Yes, and who is this man who has been so gen- 
erous with his money to encourage laziness. I’d like 
to know, Mr. Frazier? If it’s nothing that he’s 
ashamed of, why don’t he come out with his name? 


278 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


The better element of this city wants to know who is 
helping on lawlessness and disorder in this way. 
Don’t you think we ought to know, Mr. Sterling, so 
that we can tell who is for the city’s best interests and 
who is against them?” 

Rev. Mr. Sterling rather thought so. It was not 
his custom to disagree with the chief pillar in his 
church, a deacon, and one who gave more to its sup- 
port than all the other members. 

“Mr. Ashbell, you must pardon me,” put in Fra- 
zier, “but I can not and will not listen to any reflec- 
tion upon the character or the motive of the generous 
person who has come to the rescue of these destitute 
workers. If this is to continue, I must bid you good 
evening.” 

“Oh, no, now; I didn’t mean anything personal,” 
exclaimed Ashbell. “Let’s talk of something else. 
You are probably right, Mr. Frazier.” 

The conversation then turned upon other subjects 
and a little later Frazier withdrew and went out into 
the fresh air where he felt comfortable and free 
once more. He was now satisfied that the object of 
Ashbell in inviting him to his house was to try to in- 
fluence him in his course as a member of the arbitra- 
tion board and to further ascertain his feelings in 
relation to the strike. Frazier was not pleased with 
the experience of the evening. He had hoped that 
the invitation from Ashbell was a friendly one rather 
than for a selfish and mean purpose. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

Gude advice is ne’er out o’ season. — Scotch Proverb. 


The arbitration committee met in a private room 
in the City Hotel early the following day. The pro- 
ceedings were informal, but behind closed doors. It 
was decided that after the chairman of the com- 
mittee had presented the facts in relation to wages 
elsewhere and at the local mill, the kind of work in- 
volved, and the prices and profits of the mill owners, 
so far as the committee had been enabled to ascertain 
them, that each member of the committee should 
present his views individually, and this was to be fol- 
lowed by a discussion and then a vote of the five 
members upon the various points at issue. 

The discussion and consideration of the subject 
occupied several hours, all the phases of the trouble 
having been gone over carefully. Somewhat to Fra- 
zier’s surprise, every member of the board voted 
with him in favor of the demands for wages made 
by the weavers, spinners and loomfixers. As this 
comprised the great body of help employed in the 
mill, the most difficult phase of the trouble was set- 
tled very easily and harmoniously. When it came to 
the proposed raise of wages of some of the higher 
279 


28 o 


rVHATS HE TO MEf 


priced workmen, however, Frazier voted in favor of 
the position assumed by the mill owners. He be- 
lieved that the limit of wages should be enough to 
guarantee the worker a living, but in case of a de- 
mand for higher pay, that such workers had a more 
ready opportunity of bettering themselves by going 
elsewhere if they chose, so he voted against the prop- 
osition. He was somewhat astonished to find that 
one of the board who had been chosen by Mr. Ash- 
bell himself, voted in favor of this clause, and it was 
consequently carried against him. Some other de- 
tails were acted upon in relation to time deductions 
and spoiled or imperfect goods, the decision being 
in the main a mean between the claims of employer 
and employed. 

Having completed their work and made out their 
schedule of prices and other conditions, the commit- 
tee prepared two copies, one for the mill-owners and 
the other for the strike committee. The latter was 
read at a meeting of the strikers in their hall a few 
hours later and was received with applause, for they 
had gained a decided victory. Not so in the case of 
the one submitted to Mr. Ashbell. As soon as he 
had read the typewritten report, he immediately or- 
dered that the mill gates should not be opened the 
following morning. 

“I will keep this factory closed till the crack of 


THE DECISION 


281 


doom rather than submit to any such decision,” said 
he to the general manager. 

“But how can you do that,” was the reply, “when 
you have agreed to submit the matter to arbitra- 
tion?” 

“Why, I agreed to abide by the decision of an im- 
partial board. Since it was selected I took good 
care to see how Harold Frazier, the Review editor, 
and the proposed unpartisan member stood, and I 
found he was with the strikers, hook, line and sinker. 
Am I supposed to stand by the decision of any such 
arbitration board as that?” 

“Well, perhaps not; but I am afraid you will get 
yourself into trouble. Public sentiment may not con- 
sider it your way. It will probably be thought that 
you should have made your objections before the de- 
cision was reached and as soon as you learned of the 
personnel of the committee.” 

“I care nothing about that. The mill will remain 
closed. In another week the lawless strike leaders 
will have come to their senses and be glad to come 
back to work like a flock of sheep.” 

Turning to his secretary, Mr. Ashbell ordered him 
to write a letter, stating that he had not consented 
to leave the question to a partisan arbitration board 
and consequently he should not abide by the decision. 
He signed the letter and ordered it sent at once by 
messenger to the strike committee. It was received 


282 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


before the close of the meeting announcing the de- 
cision of the board, and what had started as a gath- 
ering of thanksgiving and gratitude ended in one of 
indignation and bitterness. There was nothing to 
be done but to order a continuation of the strike and 
in a few hours after the appearance of the Review 
on the street that afternoon the outcome was known 
all over the city. It was the topic of conversation 
everywhere, and soon the facts as had been stated 
concerning Frazier’s interview at Ashbell’s house, 
were likewise public property. In most instances 
public sentiment was against Ashbell’s course, al- 
though some agreed with him in his view that the 
board was an ex parte one. 

Early in the evening Uncle Ben Huntington drop- 
ped into the Review office as had become his frequent 
custom and he found Frazier in his editorial den. 

“What hev they been doin’ here to-day?’’ he ex- 
claimed, as soon as he had settled in a comfortable 
seat. “Thought they’d agreed to settle the mill 
strike by arbitration. Who kicked the bottom out 
on’t?’’ 

As briefly as possible, Frazier explained to Uncle 
Ben the facts, his visit at Ashbell’s house, the con- 
versation and the final action of the arbitration com- 
mittee, calling particular attention to the fact that it 
was a member chosen by Ashbell himself who car- 
ried the only point against the mill owners about 


THE CONVINCER 


283 

which there was any division of feeling whatever. 
Uncle Ben listened in silence, and then said he was 
going over to see Ashbell at once. 

“Why, Jim Ashbell and me went to school to- 
gether when we were no higher than a saw-horse. I 
know him from A to Izzard. So the durn fool has 
kicked over the bucket, hez he? All right; I’ll go 
over and tell him what I think of him. He wants to 
buy ten acres off my farm ’cause it’ll soon be in the 
city limits, but there’ll be no city limits out as fer as 
that or anywhere else if he keeps makin’ a fool of 
himself.” 

Uncle Ben put on his hat, climbed into his buggy 
with an alacrity that would have done credit to a 
young man, and drove directly to Ashbell’s house. 
He did not stand much upon ceremony upon being 
ushered in. 

“I want to see Mr. Ashbell,” he said laconically, 
to the servant, as he was taken into the drawing 
room. Ashbell came at once. He looked worried, 
and did not greet his old school fellow with special 
cordiality. 

“What in the name of common sense hev you ben 
doin’, Jim?” was Uncle Ben’s first remark. “D’ye 
want to ruin yerself and the whole city? D’ye want 
the public to be down on ye more’n they hev ben? 
I jest saw the Review editor and he told me ’bout 
this arbitration business, so I come right here to see 


284 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


ye. Why, ye blamed idjut — ’xcuse me fer bein’ 
plain-spoken — it wasn’t Frazier tliat carried the 
thing agin ye, but one of yer own men ye picked fer 
an arbitrator yerself. I’ve watched ye fer some 
time, and seen yer gettin’ rich. That’s all right; get 
as rich as ye ken. But don’t bite off mor’n ye can 
chew. I don’t care how d — d mean a man is if he’ll 
only do as he agrees. But you ain’t doin’ as yer 
agree when ye repudiate yer promise to arbitrate.” 

Ashbell was uncomfortable, but he listened respect- 
fully. He would take far more from his old school- 
mate, plain-spoken and rough of speech, than from 
almost anyone else. He explained his position, but 
said it was the first he had heard that both members 
of the arbitration board, which he himself had 
chosen, had voted against him. If that was to be 
the outcome, he might as well have allowed the mill 
help to dictate terms in the first place. 

“Wa’al, what’s the difference who dictates? 
Right’s right, and wrong’s wrong,” interposed Uncle 
Ben. “The trouble with you, Jim, is that you’re try- 
ing to run things too all-fired much. You want ter 
run the Republican party, an’ the city government, 
an’ the Fust Baptist church, and the labor men thrun 
in. Now ye can’t, and the sooner ye find it out the 
better. This city can git along without you. It 
wouldn’t miss ye more’n if ye’d never ben born if ye 
should be taken away termorrer, an’ ye’ve got ter 


THE ACCEPTANCE 


285 


die some time along with the rest on us. Seems ter 
me, things hev been upsot long ’nough. Don’t go 
back on yer word. Tell the strikers ye hev made a 
mistake, or, by thunder. I’ll give ’em $500 ter help 
’em out termorrer. I’ve got it, an’ I ken afford it.” 

“Possibly it was you, Ben, who gave the $500 to 
the strikers the other day,” remarked Ashbell, rather 
ironically. 

“No, it wasn’t nuther; but I don’t care who it wuz, 
it wuz a durn han’some thing ter do, an’ they ought 
ter be proud on’t.” 

Ashbell was reflecting. He felt that plain as were 
the words gf Uncle Ben there was some reason in 
them. Although he had no sympathy for the help 
in his mill, he had the keenest perception of his own 
selfish interests, and he knew he was beaten. So, 
while he made no promise, he gave Uncle Ben to 
understand that he thought favorably of his sugges- 
tion, and as soon as the uncouth peace-maker had de- 
parted, there was a hasty ringing of the telephone, 
and in a half-hour it was known by the workers that 
Ashbell had decided to accept the terms of the arbi- 
tration committee, and to have the mill gate opened 
the following day. 

This latest news somewhat bewildered the public, 
but it was soon confirmed and the strikers knew who 
had given Mr. Ashbell a change of heart. Frazier 
insisted that Uncle Ben was the hero of the hour, 


286 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


and that night he went home in a much easier frame 
of mind than since the strike began. His thoughts 
turned to Don, who through it all, when he himself 
could not give to the Review the attention it needed, 
had worked loyally, early and late, his efforts being 
plainly shown in its increased circulation and adver- 
tising patronage. Then he thought how true the 
proverb is, that friends reveal most clearly to each 
other exactly that upon which they are silent and 
most anxious to keep secret. It was so with Don. 
It was so with Helen. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


Love will obtain and possess; friendship makes sacrifices but 
asks nothing. — Geibel. 

Uncle Ben Huntington had invited Frazier, Miss 
Colton, Donald and the Warrens to spend Sunday 
at the farm. 

“It’ll do ye all good,” he urged, “to come up and 
pick a few blossoms, see how the grass looks and 
hear the birds sing.” 

Though the town had encroached upon the origi- 
nal boundary of Uncle Ben’s farm, he still lived a 
rural life although almost within the city limits. It 
was a hot morning — the kind of a day when green 
retreats are specially inviting. The journey was a 
rather quiet one. Frazier seemed in a rather con- 
templative mood and the others in not particularly 
high spirits. The usually exuberant Betsy whisked 
the flies off rather pettishly, as if she had a grudge 
against some one. But on their arrival at the farm 
no one thought of the weather. Who could resist 
the welcome of jovial Uncle Ben and hospitable Aunt 
Elizabeth? Frazier thought of the days when he 
used to go back to the old farm and how his mother 
used to hold him off tremulously at arm’s length 
287 


288 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


while she looked in his face before she gave him the 
embrace he remembered so well. 

“Wa’al, this is the smallest party we have had in 
many a year,” said Uncle Ben. “Why didn’t ye 
bring more of ’em, Helen? We’ll hev to eat cold 
vittles fer a week or make ye exercise to get up an 
appetite. Elizabeth has been workin’ hard to get 
everything ready and I’ll be like flax under the 
hatchel all next week to pay fer it.” 

“I hardly believe that,” objected Frazier. 

“It’s true just the same. But come out to the 
barn. I want to show ye things you can’t hev in the 
city,” returned Uncle Ben. “Here’s the new colt, 
Helen. Isn’t he a beauty?” 

They admired the awkward little creature, and 
visited the stable, the chicken house, the duck pond 
and even a litter of black and white pigs. A flock 
of pigeons was cooing on the barn. 

“Sing’lar,” said Uncle Ben, “what a mistaken no- 
tion most people have of pidgins. They’re generally 
supposed to be the peaceablest critters goin’. But 
it’s no sech thing. There’s more feathers flyin’ in 
a pidgin roost than in the henhouse. Jest look at 
that struttin’ pidgin,” pointing out a handsome bird 
of gray and white, with the exquisite bronze and iri- 
descent tints on its graceful neck. “He’s mighty hu- 
man. Just for all the world like a poor, ordinary 
man. He’s a good example to you young folks that 


THE COURT IN* 


289 

haven’t got hitched up, as you orter long ago. The 
first mate he had was that brown and white pidgin 
over there on the top of the henhouse. She never 
loses that stuck-up, stand-off manner of hers, and her 
ruff and them little mincin’ steps she hez, makes me 
think of Mrs. Royal Quincy when she sails inter 
meetin’ of a Sunday. You can tell by that pidgin’s 
eyes thet she hez a temper of her own. She made 
him toe ther mark an’ hustle fer food for the young 
ones. I don’t know how it happened, but they had 
some kind of er rumpus, as near’s I could find out, 
and one or t’other went ter South Dakoty, or some- 
wher’ else, and the next thing I knew, he came along 
’bout three weeks ago with thet quiet little Quaker- 
ish pidgin he’s got now. Whar’ he got her I don’t 
know, fer he went courtin’ way from hum, like other 
grass widowers. Ye see he’d made up his mind for 
a new deal. This wife is plainer lookin’ and more 
modest actin’ than t’other. She follers him about 
as if he were the sun, moon and stars to once. He’s 
not henpecked any longer. He wears the britches 
this trip. He’s jest like a human critter. The 
other mornin’ I threw the corn inside the wire fence 
and if he didn’t begin pickin’ his wife, jest as ye see 
husbands swear round in the mornin’ when the 
breakfast is late or it don’t suit ’em. He’s an ex- 
ample to ye, young folks, to see which is boss in the 
beginnin’.” 


290 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


The talk had led them past the ice-house and the 
fish pond, and now they were following a noisy little 
brook up the hill, where a grove of maple trees 
crowned the knoll. All rested on the brow of the 
hill enjoying the view. 

“Funny how gals are nowadays,” continued Un- 
cle Ben. “They don’t take good lookin’ husbands 
when they can git ’em,” glancing at Helen. 

Out of a thicket near came the rapturous thrilling 
song of a catbird, followed not long after by the 
harsh, familiar cat-call. 

“There! You’re answered. Uncle Ben. That 
feathered husband is a fair example of the men. 
You see if we could only hear that melodious, woo- 
ing harmony all the time, we would be willing to risk 
it, but we know the harsh, scolding, whining note will 
come later. Isn’t it so Vera?” 

Vera laughed. 

“But Mrs. Catbird doesn’t seem to mind the sharp 
note,” said Frazier. “She hears only the wooing. 
Besides I presume the petulant tones are reserved 
for outsiders like ourselves who are trespassing too 
near that closely hidden nest with its deep greenish 
blue eggs.” 

“Then what a conceited fellow he is, too,” con- 
tinued Helen, as the jaunty fellow, in coat of slaty 
gray, cocked his head on one side and flipped his 
tail, as he perched a moment near them on a bush. 


THE REVELATION 


291 


“See what a conscious fellow he is ! I’ll give you a 
pointer, Uncle Ben, the man I marry must be modest. 
I have self-esteem enough for two.’’ 

“Wa’al, you hev,’’ said Uncle Ben, “and alius did 
hev, but ye got it from the Warren side of the fam’ly. 
Didn’t inherit it from me. But speakin’ of birds, 
did ye ever think that the Almighty shows his wis- 
dom in ’em more’n almost any other way? You see 
that bobolink down there on that bunch of alders in 
the medder. He’s a little thing, but he’s makin’ 
music enough fer a hull brass band. S’pose the Al- 
mighty had taken it into His head to make that flock 
of cattle over thar’ in the pastur sing like bobolinks. 
Why, the whole world would be nothin’ but a pande- 
monium. Hevn’t ye ever thought what a mighty 
piece of wisdom it was to make the little things sing 
and noisy and make the big things silent? They talk 
about God revealin’ Himself in the Bible. P’raps 
He does to a good many, but He reveals Himself to 
me a mighty sight more right out here in the field. 
Then did ye ever think what a wonderful thing it is 
that folks call instinct? Did ye ever notice how a 
bird’s nest is made? Why, you couldn’t make one, 
nor I couldn’t, ef we tried a dozen times. And yet 
a little bird that never saw one made, and never was 
told how to make one, can make a perfec’ one the 
fust time tryin’. Is it any wonder that I don’t think 


292 fVHATS HE TO ME? 

thar’s any need of my goin’ to church when I kin 
keep pooty near to God right ’round the farm?” 

“Yes, Uncle Ben,” said Frazier, “there’s a good 
deal of truth in that. You agree with Martin Lu- 
ther who said in effect — firm believer in the Bible 
as he was — that ‘God writes the gospel not in the 
Bible alone, but on trees and flowers, and clouds and 
stars.’ ” 

Uncle Ben started up. “Come on. Miss Colton, 
if ye want a drink of spring water.” 

The rest followed leisurely. 

“We know the way, don’t we, Gordon? We used 
to come here when we were children and the sap was 
running.” 

And so they sauntered back to the house. When 
they were nearly there, Helen missed one of her 
gloves. 

“I must have dropped it at the spring.” 

Frazier volunteered to go back for it. He found 
it lying on the huge lichen-covered rock. It was 
mannish in cut but feminine in size. Frazier took 
it up almost reverently. As he sat there in the cool 
silence, he recalled Helen’s face, unusually bright 
and happy this morning, and his resolve grew 
stronger. He must bring those two lovers together 
and that very day. Donald was too modest to offer 
himself and Helen was innocent of the strength of 
her own love. The house seemed deserted when he 


THE COVENANT 


293 


reached it, the party having scattered in all direc- 
tions. He found Helen and Donald in the old- 
fashioned parlor, standing before a wonderful speci- 
men of Aunt Elizabeth’s needlework. It showed 
Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac. 

“I found the glove. Miss Warren.” 

“I’m glad you did. An odd glove is the most 
useless thing in the world.” 

“Unless it be an odd man or an odd woman. 
Your one glove is no more useless than you and Don 
are without each other. Helen, your heart belongs 
to Don. Don, your heart is wholly Helen’s. Don’t 
let them get apart so that they shall be like the lost 
glove.” 

Frazier laid Helen’s hand in Donald’s and ab- 
ruptly left the room. 

Helen and Donald were too astonished to speak. 
They looked in each other’s eyes and read what each 
longed to see. The beautiful roseate day that comes 
but once had dawned for them, and before them 
stretched that wonderful land of love and under- 
standing. They hesitated in the path, recalling all 
the incidents of their past friendship and early love. 

“And when did you begin to love me, Gordon?” 

“I can not remember, dear. I remember as far 
as the days when you used to wear white frocks and 
those dear flapping muslin caps.” 

“And I, too,” said Helen softly, “can not re- 


294 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


member the day when you did not come first, but I 
never realized it all until that day when Betsy ran 
away and I saw you get over the dashboard. Then 
it all came over me in a flash — and I knew.” 

In the immaculate kitchen Frazier was talking 
with Aunt Elizabeth. The world gives plaudits and 
bars and honors for the hero who wins a victory on 
the field amid the roar of guns and the shouts of 
men, but it is only the angels of God who note the 
bloodless but more admirable victory won in secret 
in the face of temptation by the man with a smiling 
face and sometimes heavy heart — the victory of un- 
selfishness and honor. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

One of the sublimeit things in the world is plain truth. — B ul- 
WER Lytton. 

There was to be a jubilee meeting in celebration of 
the settlement of the strike. Merchants who had re- 
mained neutral while the contest was going on, or 
perhaps had given secret approval to both sides as 
occasion seemed to warrant, vied with each other in 
contributing generously to make it a success. There 
was to be a parade of the labor organizations to be 
followed by music, refreshments and speeches in the 
biggest hall of the city. The strike leaders wanted 
all to attend who had been in any way instrumental 
in bringing about what they were pleased to call a 
victory for organized labor. They came to Frazier 
to get him to make an address. 

“Not at any affair celebrating a victory for labor,” 
was the reply. “A victory for peace and justice, for 
conciliation — yes; but not for overcoming your em- 
ployers, who are just as much your allies as the pur- 
chasers of any commodity are the allies of the sell- 
ers. Think how you would feel if capital were to 
celebrate a victory over labor. What would be its 
effect upon public sentiment — upon yourselves? 
Would such a celebration serve to reconcile you to 
295 


296 


W HATS HE TO MEf 


your position? Would it not create enmity rather 
than allay it?” 

“But it was a victory for organized labor, and 
nothing else; let labor have the credit,” was the 
reply. 

“Was it? Let us see,” said Frazier. “Suppose 
your strikers’ fund had not received its generous 
additions from the public and from capital — the five 
hundred dollars from one man and many smaller 
sums from others; suppose the young women from 
the homes of employers had not visited your fami- 
lies and given food and money and encouragement; 
suppose Uncle Ben Huntington had not used his 
plain-spoken influence and logic upon Mr. Ashbell; 
would you have been successful then?” 

The workers could see the force of Frazier’s 
reasoning, and changed their view-point so that the 
affair was advertised as one to celebrate the return 
of peace and concord of employer and employed. 

The parade formed at seven o’clock in the even- 
ing and was headed by a drum corps and followed 
by a band of music. There were fully two thous- 
and in the procession, and the local mercantile es- 
tablishments and some of the private dwellings were 
illuminated for the occasion. Then the party 
thronged the hall where tables were spread for the 
banquet, the repast being served by the fair daugh- 
ters of the mill. The post-prandial exercises con- 


THE CELEBRATION 


297 


sisted of songs by the same male quartet that had 
taken part at the election campaign of the fall be- 
fore, and solos by young ladies. There were 
speeches by the president of the Federation of 
Labor and the strike leaders. These were followed 
by an address by one of the local clergymen and 
remarks by Harold Frazier. The latter said it 
was a victory for conciliation and for the principle 
that neither capital nor labor had so fallen into the 
power of the other that one must accept its terms 
or be ruined; that there was still a practical equal- 
ity of relations between the two forces without which 
there could be no justice or peace or prosperity. 

“For,” said he, “when either becomes so weak 
that it can be absolutely ruled by the other, we have 
simply a system of intolerable slavery.” He closed 
by calling for a vote of thanks for one noble- 
hearted woman who had perhaps done more than 
anyone else toward bringing about a satisfactory 
outcome to the strike by generously contributing en- 
couragement, time, sympathy and money whenever 
needed, and when he mentioned the name of Vera 
Colton, there were cheers all over the hall, and it 
was carried by a rising vote. “But among the 
others,” said he, “there are two more who deserve 
special recognition. I refer to Uncle Benjamin 
Huntington, whom you well know did such valiant 
service in your behalf with the head of the mill, and 


298 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


‘A Friend of the Workers,’ who anonymously but no 
less generously contributed $500 towards your as- 
sistance in your darkest hour of need.” 

There were cheers for Benjamin Huntington and 
for the anonymous friend who, by the way, was 
praised for his modesty, but not for his considera- 
tion for Mr. Ashbell, which no one suspected. Then 
there were more votes of thanks — for the eminently 
fair position maintained by the Review during the 
strike and for the wise counsel of Frazier. It was 
a most successful gathering and its character had 
been so directed that not one of the most partisan 
adherents of either capital or labor could find much 
to criticise. 

When Frazier returned to the office, he found 
Donald, whom he had not seen alone since the af- 
fair at Uncle Ben Huntington’s. 

“Well, Don,” said he, “it was a good meeting 
and of the right enthusiasm and character. It’s a 
great thing to have peace once more, and every- 
body feeling well. Why, I haven’t been so happy 
for many a day. And, Don, old fellow, I am es- 
pecially happy for you — ^you’ve got a prize and you 
deserve one.” 

“Yes, but I am afraid I owe it more to you than 
I do to myself, Frazier.” , 

“Owe? You owe nothing to me nor to any one 
else. All I want is to be there when the covenant is 


THE DEBT 


299 

carried out. I am not much on weddings, but I 
shall go to yours with an Amen on my lips as fer- 
vent as any at a good Methodist prayer meeting. 
By the way, to change the subject, how much do we 
owe on that mysterious debt, which you hold as such 
a secret?” 

“We are just about to pay off another thousand 
with interest, which will reduce it to $5,000 in all. 
Pretty good for less than a year, isn’t it? But the 
Review is doing better and better all the time and if 
we don’t have any setbacks, we’ll pay it all off in less 
than another year, please God.” 

“Yes, but Don, am I never to know who let me 
have the money? Wasn’t it Denny McGrath, after 
all? Now if I have guessed right, don’t give it 
away unless you want to. McGrath has a bigger 
heart than is generally imagined.” 

“Mr. Frazier, I have no right to say no or yes to 
any guesses you may make. But you may be sure 
that when the time comes for you to know — if it 
ever does come — you will be no more glad to learn 
who it is than I shall be glad to tell you. I should 
judge there will be no reason for keeping the matter 
secret from you even if it be kept from the public 
after the obligation has been cancelled and no longer 
exists, but I can’t be sure of even that.” 

“Well, if that is the case, we must pay it off as 
fast as possible. It’s bad enough to be under obli- 


300 


WHAVS HE TO ME? 


gations to your known friends, but when it is to 
a stranger or some other mysterious individual, it 
makes it altogether too exciting and romantic.” 

Donald changed the subject. “We shall need a 
new press before long,” said he. “If there was 
ever one that was whimsical and contrary, fitful and 
erratic, it is ours down in the basement. It would 
do me good to see it mutilated and despoiled, car- 
ried off for old junk to mould and corrode. It 
balks about every other day. It is just like some 
persons; you never know where to find them nor 
when they are going to revolt. That is the reason 
I’ve come to like you, Frazier; because you may al- 
ways be depended upon to do just as well as you 
know how. To do our best in the world is about 
all there is to it. Anything else may receive praise, 
but it may not deserve it; it all depends.” 

“Well, there is some truth in that, Don,” said 
Frazier, as he bade him goodnight. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


How the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Make deeds ill done! 

— Shakespeare. 

Mr. Percy Piggott had never been satisfied with 
the outcome of his relations with Harold Frazier. 
Had he been able to purchase the Review at the 
foreclosure sale, or had the personal encounter at 
the City Hotel terminated differently he might 
have been content. But when he saw Frazier’s 
newspaper growing constantly more prosperous and 
influential, it fanned the smouldering feelings of 
jealousy and hatred into flame. Why should not 
he himself own a newspaper — a competitor of the 
Review, and perhaps run that paper out of existence 
altogether? What supreme satisfaction it would 
give him if he could bring that independent editor 
on his knees before him. He had heard that the 
Morning Gazette might be purchased. Why not 
buy it and turn it into an evening paper? The idea 
was an attractive one, and a day or two later Mr. 
Piggott called at the office of the Morning Gazette, 
where he was well known. He said he would like 
to see the publisher on business and was at once 
invited into his private office. 

301 


302 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“Mr. Rand,” said he, “I am a man of very few 
words and you will excuse me if I proceed at once 
to tell you what I called for. I have heard that 
the Gazette is not doing as well as it has been and 
it has been intimated to me that it could be bought 
at a low figure. I have sometimes thought I would 
like a newspaper of my own, and if I could purchase 
an interest in it or perhaps buy it outright, I might 
do so. Have you any idea of disposing of it?” 

This was somewhat unexpected, but Mr. Rand, 
the publisher, was equal to the emergency. He 
really wanted to sell, and that badly, yet like all 
shrewd business men, he concealed the feeling from 
Mr. Piggott. 

“Well,” said he, “I did think at one time I would 
sell out and, in fact, I had several good offers, but 
when it came to a point where the papers were to be 
drawn I concluded I would keep it. To tell the 
truth, there is a sense of power and influence that is 
rather attractive in the ownership of a paper, and 
when once you get into the business you never like 
to give it up. I don’t know what I should do if I 
were to sell out; I am afraid I should never be con- 
tented until I got into harness again. There is a 
charm about it that nobody can understand until he 
has once experienced it. And while just at present 
our evening contemporary seems to be more pros- 
perous, that paper will soon have its day and the 


THE AMBITION 


303 

Gazette will be the leading newspaper in this local- 
ity. Still I might consider an offer for a third in- 
terest or perhaps I would sell you the whole of it. 
You could make the paper far more profitable than 
I can. You have a good deal of influence in the 
Republican party and it is constantly growing. It 
would be a great help to you and you would be a 
great help to the paper.” 

“Now Mr. Rand, I mean business, but I would not 
buy anything less than the full control of the paper. 
If you won’t sell a two-thirds interest, what will you 
take for it outright? And what is its bona fide cir- 
culation? If I buy it, of course I ought to know. 
Although it is something that I don’t know much 
about, yet I think I should rather enjoy running a 
daily paper. Before I bought it though, I should 
want to get an inventory of the property and find 
out something how much it pays, or whether it pays 
anything or not.” 

“Of course, Mr. Piggott, I shall expect you to 
have all that information, and as to the circulation, 
we claim 4,000 copies a day. I presume we havn’t 
got quite that, but it is creeping up mighty near it.” 

“Oh, yes; I know all about this circulation talk. 
Have you got 2,000 circulation? Now let’s come 
right down to business. I know most of these news- 
papers haven’t got anywhere near the circulation 
they claim. I believe the Review is now claiming 


304 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


6,000, but I’ll bet any man a hundred dollars they 
don’t sell 3,000. That man Frazier is one of the 
biggest liars in town. But I want you to tell me 
candidly how many papers you print. Do you sell 
2,000?” 

“Two thousand? Yes, we print more than 3,000. 

I don’t claim, of course, they are all sold, but we 
don’t get many of them back from the newsdealers, 
and 3,000 copies is a pretty good circulation for a 
city of this size. I am confident that it is more 
than the Review has to-day.” 

“I don’t doubt it. You know, I presume, that I 
helped that man Frazier once, and possibly you may 
know what I got for doing the favor. He came to 
me when he was on his last legs so to speak and al- 
most begged me to help him out. He promised me 
that he would do anything, if I would save him from 
ruin, and I finally consented. You know pretty 
well what I got for it. Instead of giving me any 
support when I was candidate for the state senate, 
he opened up his columns to that anarchist and agi- 
tating crowd and let them print communications 
without a word of protest. I stood it as long as I 
could, but one night I met him down to the City 
Hotel and called him up into a private room — this 

mustn’t go any further ” 

It need hardly be stated that Mr. Piggott was 
referring to his personal encounter with Frazier, 


THE LIAR 


305 

which he was quite sure had never leaked out, and 
Mr. Rand interrupted to say: “Of course, of course, 
Mr. Piggott. What you say is entirely confi- 
dential.” 

“No, I wouldn’t have this repeated for anything. 
But I got him up there, and if ever a man got a 
tongue-lashing, he did. 1 am pretty plain-spoken 
when I get mad, and I didn’t mince matters, 1 tell 
you. I told him he was nothing more nor less than 
an anarchist, and at first the whelp was going to re- 
sent it, but I got up out of the chair and walked 
right over to him, and he cowered down like a 
whipped cur. But don’t say anything about this, 
Mr. Rand. It’s all past and gone now, and al- 
though I don’t say much or want any one else to, I 
think if I got hold of the Gazette there might oc- 
casionally be a pretty warm time. I have done 
some writing myself. I used to report for the local 
paper in my own town and when I was in Pinckney 
Academy, we had a little paper and 1 used to do al- 
most all the editing. I’ve got my hand out, of 
course, but I think I shouldn’t find any trouble in 
saying some things that need to be said. I have 
been rather successful in business and was thinking 
of retiring, but I am a young man yet and must say 
I am a little ambitious to take more of a hand in 
politics and in running things in this city.” 

“Yes, and although I have no wish to flatter you. 


3o6 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


Mr. Piggott, I believe you would be very successful. 
In fact, I feel confident that if you were to take hold 
of the Gazette, it would soon double in circulation 
and advertising. Besides it needs a little more 
ready capital. I have always been handicapped for 
lack of that.” 

“Have you any objections to taking me over the 
plant and letting me look around a little?” con- 
tinued Mr. Piggott. 

“Not the slightest. Come out this way. You 
know just this time of day we are not busy. The 
printers don’t go to work till about seven o’clock 
but from that time until two in the morning, it is 
pretty lively around here.” 

Mr. Rand led the way up into the composing 
room where he showed Piggott the three typesetting 
machines, two of which he said he owned free and 
clear and the other was rented. He also took him 
down into the press room where that locality was 
thoroughly examined. Piggott knew very little 
about the publishing business, but the thought that 
he might soon become the editor and proprietor of 
the morning Gazette appealed strongly to him and 
touched his vanity. So when they returned to the 
private office, he remarked: 

“Well, Mr. Rand, what will you sell the property 
for, and step right out of the business? If I pur- 
chase the plant, I shall probably make few changes 


THE BARGAINING 


307 

in the editorial or printing force. I am not one of 
the kind that thinks he knows it all, and I should go 
rather slow, except that I might occasionally give 
that Review just what it deserves. Now tell me 
what is the lowest figure which will buy you out.” 

Mr. Rand drummed the end of his pencil upon 
the desk. He did not wish to appear too anxious 
to sell. 

“This is pretty sudden, Mr. Piggott. I hardly 
know what to say. I don’t want anything but what 
is right, but since you wish a reply right here, I will 
give you a price, although I am putting the figures 
too low. I will sell you the paper for $24,000 and 
you can settle all bills payable and receivable, or I 
will let you have it for $25,000 and settle up all the 
accounts at the beginning of the month myself. 

“So you owe a thousand dollars more than there 
is coming in, Mr. Rand,” remarked Piggott. “That 
does not look very well for the business, but, of 
course, it depends upon circumstances.” 

“No, I think the books will show that our bills 
payable are less than the bills receivable, but it will 
cost something and take some time to settle up the 
accounts, and I think it would be better for you to 
step right in and take everything as it is rather than 
try to make collections too suddenly.” 

Mr. Piggott thought a moment. Finally, looking 
earnestly at Mr. Rand, he said: “Now I want this 


3o8 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


paper pretty badly to-day. I may get all over it to- 
morrow, but I will tell you just what I will do and 
the best I will do. I will give you $20,000 for your 
plant just as it stands, taking the accounts as they 
appear on your books, settling everything and re- 
ceiving everything. I think this is more than it is 
worth, but I believe in doing things quick, and if 
you want to sell I don’t believe you will ever have a 
better chance. Now this is the very best that I 
can afford to do. Do you want to sell enough to 
have a check for $20,000 put right into your hand, 
or do you want to keep the paper and perhaps work 
ten or twenty years and not have another chance to 
get so good an offer?” 

Mr. Rand did not hesitate long. He said he pre- 
sumed he should regret it, but he sometimes thought 
he would like a rest of a few years and that a new 
proprietor and editor would be welcomed by the 
public. Before night the papers were drawn for 
the transfer of the property, and while this was 
being done, Piggott said: 

“Mr. Rand, I have been thinking of turning the 
Gazette into an evening paper. The fact is the 
business interests of the community do not get what 
they are entitled to in the Review. Now that I have 
purchased it, I don’t mind telling you I intend 
changing it over. The city will support a first-class 
evening paper and there really doesn’t seem to be 


THE PLAN 


309 

much of a field here for a morning paper. I shall 
talk it over with the men when I take possession 
next week and unless something else comes up that 
I cannot myself foresee, we will have an evening 
paper here that will be a credit to the city and run 
the Review out before it is a year older.” 

“Possibly your idea may not be a bad one,” said 
Mr. Rand. “It will require considerable capital to 
make the change, but if you can only run out the 
Review, you will be making more money in a year 
than you can make in ten years by publishing a 
morning paper.” 

“Well, I am willing to put in several thousand 
dollars more to make the test,” was Piggott’s reply. 
“But I don’t care to have anything said about it 
until the time comes. It will be known quickly 
enough when we get ready, and my motto will be, 
‘Let the fittest survive.’ ” 


4 




* * 


J 


f 


V 


• \ 




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\ 



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1 


/ 


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CHAPTER XXXV 


The mastiff is quiet while curs are yelping, — P roverb. 

Mr. Piggott took possession of the Gazette the 
next Monday morning. The retiring proprietor 
escorted him up into the editorial rooms, where he 
was introduced to the staff, then to the composing 
room where he met the foreman, and finally to the 
pressman and back to the business office. Then 
wishing him the utmost success, Mr. Rand departed, 
relieved from the cares of a decidedly exacting busi- 
ness. After he had gone, Mr. Piggott went to the 
speaking tube and asked if the editor would step 
downstairs a moment. When he appeared, he was 
invited to a seat. 

“Now,” said Piggott, “as you are probably aware, 
I don’t know much about the newspaper business 
from actual experience, but I think I know a good 
paper when I see it, and it seems to me that it will 
be easier and pleasanter for us all and more profit- 
able to change the Gazette to an evening paper. 
Few people in a city of this size have time to read 
a newspaper in the morning. They want the news 
when they get home at night and can sit down and 


312 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


read without much on their minds. The Review 
doesn’t appeal to the better and more intelligent 
element in the city and we can soon run it out of 
existence. So I have thought that just as soon as it 
can be arranged, say perhaps next Monday morn- 
ing, we will begin to get the Gazette out in the af- 
ternoon instead of the morning. How does that 
strike you?” 

‘‘Well, it may be advisable, but it is certainly a 
step that should not be taken hastily,” was the reply. 
“However, I suppose you have given the matter 
careful consideration, and it makes but little differ- 
ence to me although as you probably know, work 
has to be done more rapidly on an evening paper 
than on a morning, and you may have to increase 
the editorial staff a little. They are getting out a 
pretty good paper at the Review office, and unless 
we can make as good a one, it would hardly be ad- 
visable to compete with them. But 1 am sure we 
shall all of us be glad to do the best we can. I 
presume you would like an editorial announcement 
made to that effect, would you not?” 

“Yes, I suppose this ought to be done. You know 
what to say. Give the reasons for the change and 
tell ’em we are going to give a better paper than 
has ever been printed in this locality before. I 
wish you would stir up the reporters a little and tell 
’em I shall expect them to get all the news.” 


THE TYRO 


313 


“Well, I suppose I can, but that hardly comes 
under my jurisdiction, Mr. Piggott. The city edi- 
tor attends to that, and if you will pardon me, 1 
may say that everybody on the staff has known that 
he is expected to get all the news ever since he has 
been in the business.” 

“O, yes, I suppose so. Only I want everybody 
to do as well as they can. I am anxious to beat out 
the Review and know we can do it, and you can tell 
the city editor if he wants another reporter, of two 
more for that matter, he can have them.” 

When this interview was over, Piggott called 
for the pressman and told him he was about to pur- 
chase a new printing press — one that would print a 
bigger paper and do it quicker than the old press. 
The pressman was delighted, and soon that was all 
arranged. Then he called down the city editor and 
explained to him that although he did not want to be 
too exacting or officious at first, it had occurred to 
him that it would be a good plan to have bigger 
headings to the articles. “You know,” said he “that 
the big papers in the large cities are making heads 
that run clear across the page sometimes. It makes 
’em look as if they had more news. Don’t you 
think it would be a good plan for us to do it?” 

The city editor smiled and stated while it might 
be a good thing when they started in on their even- 
ing issue, yet there was a liability that such a step 


314 


WHAT 8 HE TO MEf 


would be considered a bit too sensational by some 
of their readers. “However,” said he, “whatever 
you wish I shall have done with pleasure.” 

The business manager did not quite approve of 
Piggott’s contemplated change of the Gazette from 
a morning to an evening issue. He quite bluntly 
stated that he thought the Review covered the field 
pretty well already, that they had hard time enough 
at present getting advertising, and that he doubted 
the wisdom of leaving one field open and jumping 
into another already well occupied.” 

“O, never mind that,” said Piggott. “There 
won’t be any Review in six months, and when you 
go to our merchants and tell them they are going 
to have a paper that will stand up for our business 
interests, or at least for the substantial taxpayers of 
the city, you won’t find any difficulty in getting them 
to advertise.” 

The Morning Gazette was thus soon metamor- 
phosed into an evening issue, and at an addition of 
some $100 a week to the running expenses as well 
as the sum of $io,ooo in fixed charges which had 
been expended for the new press. The enterprise 
did not prove quite as successful at the outset as 
Piggott had expected, but he did not lose his cour- 
age. Under his instruction the editorial policy of 
the paper was aggressively antagonistic to the work- 
ing classes. 


THE COMPETITION 


315 

Piggott knew that the $10,000 which had so mys- 
teriously appeared for Frazier’s benefit on the day 
of the sale of the Review must be paid some time, 
but of course, he was not aware of the terms on 
which it was loaned nor of the length of time it 
would be allowed to run. He was burning with 
curiosity to know where the money came from and 
on occasions had tried to find out, but in this he was 
as unsuccessful as Frazier himself. 

Better than any one else, Frazier knew that Pig- 
gott had transformed the Gazette into an evening 
paper for the sole purpose of bringing it into closer 
competition with the Review, and if possible, driv- 
ing it out of existence. But he was not greatly dis- 
turbed. Apparently he was less concerned about 
the new competitor than any one else in the Review 
office. The two new reporters who had been added 
to the Gazette staff made it essential that the 
smaller force of the Review cover with extreme care 
and minuteness all the little incidents of local life and 
personal gossip in town, which Frazier often termed 
“small beer journalism,’’ but which helped to make 
that which many considered “a good local news- 
paper.” 

Competition between the two papers thus became 
very sharp, but the forces behind them were of an 
entirely divergent character. That of the Review 
was a trained newspaper man, practical in all de- 


3i6 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


partments, mechanical and business as well as edi- 
torial. The force behind the Gazette was money, 
handled by someone who was not practically 
familiar with the business, yet who was willing to 
spend it freely in accomplishing his objects. 

Paul Downs, the city editor of the Review, wor- 
ried a good deal about this new competition, for 
with its larger local force the Gazette was able to 
cover the field more exhaustively, if not better. He 
suggested to Frazier that another reporter be se- 
cured and this the latter readily supplied. More- 
over, Frazier himself worked harder than ever, tak- 
ing evening local assignments, and assisting wher- 
ever it was possible in the business office, composing 
room or press room. His local work especially 
was a distinct benefit to the Review, for he had a 
piquant and original way of handling common-place 
events that appealed to the average reader. 

The rivalry of the two newspapers became quite 
a topic of discussion and comment about town, and 
as might be expected, sentiment was divided as to 
which was the better newspaper. Just as a cheap 
painting passes for a work of art among uneducated 
or superficial observers, so the real merits of a news- 
paper are not always apparent to the average 
reader. 

Things had been going on in this way for some 
time when one morning Paul Downs said that Mr. 


THE JUDGMENT 


317 

Piggott had asked him to join the staff at quite an 
increase of salary. 

“I don’t like to take it,” said he, “but I have a 
family to support, and while I like you and the Re- 
view, Mr. Frazier, the offer is a great temptation.” 

“Do as you think best. Downs,” said Frazier, 
“but if you want to know my advice as to whether 
1 think the change would be desirable for you, I will 
say I do not, and I think you know me well enough 
to know that I would not stand in the way of your 
future. Just at present I cannot afford to pay you 
any more than you are now receiving, nor do I 
think that Piggott can afford to give you any more, 
but I will say what I would not otherwise just at 
present, and it is that this city is not field enough 
for two evening newspapers. One of them must 
sooner or later go to the wall, or change to a morn- 
ing newspaper. I believe the fittest will survive, and 
that in the long run, the Gazette will be driven from 
the field, and that by our adherence to our present 
policy of making so good a paper to-day that its 
readers will all want to see it to-morrow. Piggott 
may possibly afford to run behind $100 or $200 a 
week, whereas we must make both ends meet, but 
this will not last long. It is not so important with 
you whether you are earning a fair salary to-day as 
it is whether you will be earning any salary whatever 
a year from now. If you continue with us, you may 


3i8 WHAVS he to ME? 

rest assured that you will be doing better next year 
than you are now. If you go over to Piggott your 
future is somewhat uncertain, but you must act ac- 
cording to your own best judgment.” 

Downs concluded to stay, and with the assistance 
of the new reporter, they were able to hold all their 
readers. True, there were a few hundred who had 
left at the outset but they gradually drifted back. 

It was in the business department, however, that 
the loss was felt most appreciably. Donald was 
having trouble with the advertisers. Merchants 
whose advertisements had appeared in the Review 
for a long time had in some cases withdrawn them 
or had taken less space. At first they gave no rea- 
son for this but merely stated it might be only tem- 
porary. It made Donald somewhat uneasy, tbut 
careful and persistent inquiry on his part brought to 
light the fact that statements had been made that 
the circulation of the Gazette was far larger than 
that of the Review and was constantly increasing. 
These were traced to the Gazette office. It was 
also learned that the Gazette had reduced the price 
for advertising. The advertising patronage of a 
newspaper is what healthy red corpuscles are to the 
life blood of an individual. Frazier consulted with 
Donald, and Downs, who heard of the matter in a 
general way, advised similar tactics to those em- 
ployed by Piggott. 


THE FEELING 


319 


“When it comes to circulation, the biggest liar 
usually wins,” said he sente ntiously. “My advice is 
to tell the truth when you can, but to lie about cir- 
culation when you must. Lie! Lie! Beat them in 
lying. You can beat them in making a paper and 
possibly we may be able to excel them in lying about 
circulation if we use the same judgment and talent.” 

Frazier would not listen to this. He said that if 
the Gazette could afford to practice such tactics as 
these, the Review could afford to let them. Donald 
remarked that although a lie would travel all over 
the city while the truth was lacing its shoes, yet he 
had never been the least successful as a liar, and he 
felt confident that if the Review went into this com- 
petition it would be signally defeated. 

“The advertisers will get on to their bluff sooner 
or later,” said he. “The best plan, I think, is for 
us to keep right on doing the best we can. The 
Review is not losing anything at present, and al- 
though we are unable to set anything aside for a 
payment on the loan this month, yet Piggott must be 
losing at least $200 a week. He can’t stand that 
very long.” 

Piggott had “a council meeting” twice a week with 
his business manager and city editor. At first some- 
what doubting — and wisely — his own knowledge of 
the details of running a newspaper, yet confident of 
his wisdom as to its broad policy, when he finally 


320 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


learned that this policy was not successful but was 
disastrous rather, he began to lose confidence in the 
wisdom of his subordinates and to attribute the lack 
of success to them. 

“I can’t understand why the circulation is falling 
off,” said he one evening at a council meeting, re- 
ferring to the decreasing sales of the Gazette. “We 
are printing a better paper than the Review and a 
much more expensive one. Why, we give them as 
much or more telegraph news, and to-night I 
counted up the number of local items and found 
we had far more than the Review.” 

The business manager suggested that the number 
of “items” did not always make a newspaper. 

“What does, then?” was Piggott’s reply. 

“Well, the general policy, political and otherwise, 
the way the news is handled, and a knowledge of 
news values as much as anything.” 

The city editor himself agreed that this was true. 
“But,” said he, “Mr. Piggott, we have deferred to 
your judgment largely as to how we should handle 
certain news matters, and although your views have 
not always met our own, yet you furnish the money, 
and what you say goes, as long as you insist upon 
it.” 

“Well,” said Piggott, “what I want is results, and 
if we can’t get them with my ideas, why use you own. 
One thing is certain; we can’t continue to run much 


THE POSTULATE 


321 


longer this way. I notice, by the way, that the circu- 
lation figures at the head of the editorial column re- 
mains stationary. Don’t you think it would be well 
to increase them a little? There is nothing like 
keeping a bold front. It gives the advertisers con- 
fidence and nobody is any the wiser. Why all the 
big dailies in New York and Chicago lie about their 
circulation and everybody takes it for granted.” 

The city editor suggested that he might be mis- 
taken, and that it would be rather unwise to raise 
the circulation figures of the Gazette while they 
were steadily declining. 

“But what I want,” said Piggott, “is that you 
should stop them from declining and make ’em in- 
crease. I am satisfied that the Review can not hold 
out much longer. That $10,000 loan must be paid 
pretty soon and where is he going to get the money 
to pay it? If we can only down him, we will have 
things our own way. I wish something would hap- 
pen like a big fire or some other big piece of news 
right in the middle of the day, so we could show the 
public how much we could beat ’em. Where would 
they be against our big staff of reporters and big 
press? All we want is a chance to show what we 
can do. Make the paper lively; print big heads; 
we’ll show ’em yet.” 

At that time Mr. Piggott did not know that his 


322 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


wish for something big to happen “right in the 
middle of the day” would soon be granted. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Fear can keep a man out of danger, but courage only can sup- 
port him in it. — Proverb. 

A few minutes after eleven o’clock the next day, 
and just as Frazier had finished the revised proofs 
of the editorials of the current issue of the Review, 
there came a deafening and frightful explosion that 
shook the building like a reed. Frazier and Paul 
Downs sprang from their seats instantly, seized 
their hats, and hurried into the street. Windows 
were being thrown open everywhere, and all were 
peering out and anxiously asking, “What is it?’’ 

The concussion broke glass in dwellings and busi- 
ness houses in all directions, and rolling in a thick 
black mass, high above the sky-line of the sur- 
rounding buildings was a giant cloud of smoke. 

“An explosion!’’ exclaimed Frazier to Downs. 
“And it is out this way.” 

They hurried along through the principal busi- 
ness street, a constantly increasing crowd of anxious 
citizens joining them, and following the direction 
of the smoke cloud, the fire alarm sounding mean- 
time. 

“It’s at the big mill I” said Downs, as they turned 
into a side street that led to that locality. “What’s 
323 


324 


JVHATS HE TO ME? 


the matter?” he asked someone who was running 
in an opposite direction. 

“A big gas tank has exploded down at the mill, 
and the whole thing is afire. Several killed in the 
ruins.” 

“You get the names of the injured, Downs,” said 
Frazier, as they hurried along, “how badly they are 
hurt, and as many personal statements as possible 
from them. I’ll get the cause, the loss, the insur- 
ance, a statement from Mr. Ashbell, if possible, and 
stories from eye-witnesses.” 

Then he dashed into a drug-store at hand and 
telephoned to Don at the Review office, asking him 
to put the new reporter to securing all the facts 
about the broken glass and other damage elsewhere 
just as soon as he came in, and to inform the fore- 
man of the composing room so that he might have 
everything cleaned up ready to handle the story for 
an extra on their return, which would be as soon as 
possible. 

Frazier hurried through the gate into the mill 
yard just at the arrival of an engine and hose car- 
riage of the fire department. Great clouds of black 
smoke, occasionally lighted by tongues of darting 
flame, were pouring through the windows of one 
of the storehouses of the mill, while scarcely any- 
thing remained where one of the small brick gas 
tank houses had stood a few minutes before. These 


THE EXPLOSION 


325 

gas houses had been placed there for the especial 
use of the big mill and were connected with the main 
gas supply. It was supposed that the explosion 
was caused by a leak or too great a pressure. But 
the cause will never be known for the man in charge 
had been literally blown to atoms. 

“Keep back! Keep back!” some one called to the 
advancing crowd. “The other gas tank may ex- 
plode at any minute.” 

The crowd fell back, but Frazier pushed forward 
where the firemen were beginning their work. Two 
dead bodies, crushed by the awful concussion, had 
already been borne away from the proximity of the 
demolished gas tank house, and several others who 
were terribly injured were being removed to the hos- 
pital in the ambulance and private carriages. 

But soon there was a cry that there were two or 
three men in the third story of the storehouse. 
James Ashbell himself had been seen to rush into the 
building with two others just after the explosion 
and before the structure was known to have caught 
fire. Their egress having been cut off by the quickly 
advancing flames, they had evidently been driven to 
the roof by means of the skylight. 

“A ladder! Get a ladder!” was the cry. Lad- 
ders were quickly raised, but they reached to only 
within some four feet of the necessary height. Two 
of the men, young employes in the mill office, swung 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


326 

quickly from the coping and dexterously descended, 
but this Mr. Ashbell was unable to do. He made 
the attempt, but somewhat awkward and stiff with 
age, and evidently extremely nervous, he drew back. 
Meantime the flames were becoming more menacing, 
the firemen having been directing their efforts to 
keeping the heat and fire from the other gas tank 
house, fearing another explosion. But all eyes were 
turned to Ashbell. As soon as his helplessness was 
apparent, a man rushed from the crowd and quickly 
ran up the ladder through the dense smoke and 
flames which came from the windows, while the fire- 
men drenched him with water. He ascended to the 
top rung of the ladder, and standing up, grasped 
the coping of the building firmly. 

“Climb down over me and quickly,” said he to 
Ashbell. “Hang to me closely. You can’t tear 
me from this ladder and there is not the slightest 
danger of your falling, if you only cling on.” 

Mr. Ashbell did as he was bidden, but his prog- 
ress down the ladder was somewhat slow, and when 
he had descended about half-way there came from 
one of the windows just above him a mighty belch 
of flame and smoke due to the heat and expansion of 
air. He was completely enveloped and severely 
burned, and unable to maintain his hold, fell to the 
ground below. The fall itself was not necessarily 
fatal, but Ashbell’s clothing was on fire and the 


THE HERO 


327 


shock was severe. Those on the ground came to 
his rescue immediately, and strong arms tenderly 
lifted him into the ambulance, in which he was taken 
to his home. 

Far less fortunate, however, was his rescuer. The 
flames surged out upon the ladder with a fierce and 
wicked sweep, and they soon enveloped his body. 
He hung for an instant and then was seen to drop 
from a far greater height than that from which Mr. 
Ashbell fell. Help was at his side at once, but too 
late. His lifeless body was borne away just before 
the entire structure collapsed, the flames and sparks 
shooting upward high into the heavens. But 
mangled as it was, the crowd recognized the face 
of James Powers, who had been one of the leaders 
in the recent strike and who had not been taken back 
to work by Mr. Ashbell, who considered him a 
dangerous agitator. 

And yet of all that vast crowd, he was the only 
one who had the ready nerve and courage to forget 
his own danger in seeing that of another. 

By the transmutation of life to death, the com- 
monplace man had become a sublime hero. 





















CHAPTER XXXPII 

Practice aims at what is immediate. — Buckle. 

As soon as the flames were well under control and 
Frazier was assured that the remaining gas tank 
had been saved from destruction, he made a hasty 
survey of the catastrophe and hastened back to the 
office. Paul Downs had already returned, and im- 
mediately nothing was heard but the click of the 
typewriters as they both wrote out their copy. In 
the composing room as rapidly as it was supplied, 
it was being put in type on the machines. At 1.30 
o’clock, when the stories of Frazier, Downs and the 
new reporter were complete, Frazier hurried to the 
press room. 

“Here’s a chance for us to show how easily we 
can beat the Gazette,” said he. “Let us do our best 
to get the press running as soon as possible. If we 
are not on the street with the complete story more 
than fifteen minutes ahead of our contemporary, I 
shall be very much mistaken.” 

Soon the newsboys were shouting all over the 
city, “Extra Review — all about the great explo- 
sion!” 

But at the Gazette office things did not run so 
329 


330 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


smoothly. With a larger staff of workers, they 
lacked organization and a directing, experienced 
head. Most of them were upon the street when 
the alarm came, and when they wrote out their re- 
ports each told his story in his own way. As a re- 
sult, there were a good many repetitions and an 
equal number of omissions. It took the city editor 
some time to cut out the duplications and to get the 
details that had been omitted. Mr. Piggott was 
nervous and excited, but was well satisfied with the 
work until he heard the newsboys calling the Review 
extra on the street, long before the final pages of 
the Gazette report had been put in type. Then he 
was in a frenzy. 

“Why, I wouldn’t have had that paper beat us for 
a thousand dollars,” said he. “What is the reason 
of it? How did they do it? I am paying good 
money to get the best and to beat that man over 
there, and now we get left. But at any rate, make 
a big head — make a big showing. Let it run clear 
across the top of the page and half-way down the 
sheet — and hurry.” 

But there were more delays. The new press did 
not run perfectly. Hardly had it been started when 
the sheet broke from the roll, and by the time it was 
working nicely the public had been supplied with a 
full report of the accident through the medium of 
the Review. 


THE STIMULANT 


331 


That night, after it was all over, Piggott called 
the city editor to account. There were some sharp 
words, although Piggott could get but little satisfac- 
tion from his inquiry and the outcome was not con- 
soling to either party. 

Piggott sat in his office and reflected long after 
the interview. His efforts to vanquish the Review 
had thus far been futile. Indeed, they were disas- 
trous. His bank account had rapidly dwindled 
away to almost nothing. A few weeks more and he 
would be compelled to seek a loan. Various ex- 
pedients came up for consideration before his mind. 
He could have probably secured money from James 
Ashbell to tide him over had it not been for the ac- 
cident and the latter’s severe, perhaps fatal, injury. 
Needed cash might be had by mortgaging the news- 
paper plant, it was true, but a transaction like that 
would be made public and reveal his condition to his 
mortal enemy, Frazier. 

He pulled open a drawer in his desk and drew out 
a flask of whiskey, for when Mr. Piggott had to con- 
sider a serious business proposition, he always liked 
to fortify himself with a little stimulant. He took 
a long draught from the flask and paced the floor 
for a time. Then matters began to look brighter. 

“There is another way,” he said to himself, “to 
get money, and why should I not be able to do it as 
easily as others have done? There’s Vera Colton.” 


332 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


He stopped and gazed into a little mirror hang- 
ing on the wall. “I’m not a bad looking man,’’ he 
reflected, “I’ve been in the legislature and am fairly 
prominent in politics. I know I am as popular as 
the average, and one of the leading business men of 
this city. My wife has been dead for three years 
now, and what is to hinder me from marrying Miss 
Colton? I could give her position — a mighty sight 
better position than she’s got now, if she did but 
know it — and she has got money and could help me. 
And wouldn’t it be an advantage to her to be the 
wife of the owner of the leading newspaper in town? 
How do I know but she would be mighty glad to get 
me? Women don’t have half the chance to get mar- 
ried that men do anyway, and when one comes their 
way they don’t often refuse. Still, I have always 
found Miss Colton pretty hard to approach. Now 
how can I do it and make it seem natural? Why 
not go over and ask her to write an article on orchids 
for the Gazette? It would give me a chance to give 
her a little flattery about her conservatory, and 
that’s what young women like. I’ll tell her she 
knows all about orchids and that the better classes 
which take this paper would appreciate an article 
by her pen. Piggott, you are not dead yet.” 

Thus ruminating with himself, Mr. Piggott again 
pulled open the drawer of his desk and introduced 
himself to the flask a second time. In a few min- 


THE TEST 


333 


utes he was more confident than ever of the success 
of his enterprise. The idea seemed almost like an 
inspiration. He wondered that he had not thought 
seriously of it before. 

Meantime, Frazier, who was naturally pleased 
to have so completely outdone the rival newspaper 
in a fair test of enterprise with their account of the 
explosion, exhibited no self adulation. When Paul 
Downs indulged in a little natural and human glori- 
fication at the outcome, Frazier said: 

“Although we did very well, Paul, yet it was 
nothing more than the result of combined method 
and effort; it was a proof of our loyalty to the paper 
and to each other. Under such circumstances we 
can get ahead of the Gazette as a matter of course. 
We all worked together and systematically. But I 
wonder how Mr. Ashbell is to-day? They say he 
was badly hurt and may not recover. Singular, 
wasn’t it, that it was James Powers, one of the most 
rabid of the strikers last fall who saved him? And 
he lost his life, poor fellow, in doing so. It is an- 
other proof that no one knows the feelings that lie 
dormant in a man until they break through. I 
wonder what effect it will have on Ashbell. It al- 
ways seemed to me that his faults were rather more 
of the head than of the heart, and that although his 
point of view is imperfect, he is usually actuated by 
what he considers exact justice. You had best tele- 


334 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


phone to his house just before we go to press to-day 
and find out how he is getting along. They say that 
if he had not been so anxious to see that all the men 
had got out of the storehouse, he himself would not 
have been hurt. After all, human nature is about 
the same in the so-called hard-hearted employer, the 
strike-breeding working man, and the rest of human 
kind when you get beneath the surface. ‘A little 
lower than the angels; a little higher than the 
brutes.’ ” 

The day following Frazier unexpectedly received 
a message asking if he would call at the Ashbell 
residence at once. He started immediately, won- 
dering why he was wanted. 

He opened the gate and walked the broad grav- 
elled path that led up to the stately Ashbell mansion. 
Ringing the bell, he was admitted and ushered by 
the servant into the drawing room. Mrs. Ashbell 
came in at once and seated herself by his side. 

“I sent for you, Mr. Frazier,” she said, “at the 
request of Mr. Ashbell who is very ill and may not 
recover from this awful experience and shock.” 

“Is it as bad as that, Mrs. Ashbell? Was he in- 
jured so severely?” 

“Yes; the doctor says that he fears his spine has 
been fractured. All we can do is hope — hope for 
the best — and be prepared for the worst. He 


THE CONTRITION 


335 

wants to talk with you about something and I’ll take 
you right into his room.” 

“I am sorry to find you in this position, Mr. Ash- 
bell,” said Frazier, as he seated himself at the bed- 
side. “Are you suffering much pain?” 

“Only a little at present, but my lower limbs seem 
numb, and I am afraid from what the doctors say 
I shall never recover. It was an awful experience. 
Were you there?” he inquired feebly. 

“Yes; I saw practically the whole of it after the 
explosion, and your almost marvellous escape from 
the burning building. It must have required a good 
deal of courage for a man of your weight and years 
to descend the ladder. But I feel hopeful of your 
speedy recovery.” 

“I am afraid I shall not. And I sent for you for 
a talk while I have the strength. Rev. Mr. Sterl- 
ing will be here soon and I want to consult him with 
you. I tell you that man Powers’ bravery in get- 
ting me down from the building has touched me 
more than anything that ever happened in my life. 
Why, do you know, he was one of the strikers who 
was so ugly that I would not take him back to work 
in the mill? Now I feel that I’m not going to get 
well, and I want to show the people of this city, and 
especially the workers at the mill, that I am not as 
selfish as they think.” 

Here Rev. Mr. Sterling was shown into the room, 


336 WHATS HE TO ME? 

and after a few words of greeting, Mr. Ashbell con- 
tinued : 

“I asked Mr. Frazier to talk with us, Mr. Sterl- 
ing, as he is practical and can help us in the line we 
were speaking about yesterday, besides he seems to 
have the confidence of the workers of the city, and 
I want to let them know that I have nothing against 
their best interests. My present will leaves every- 
thing to my wife, and as we have no children, I 
want her to be well provided for. But I am going 
to leave something to the workers of this city who 
I have always considered are largely responsible for 
my success as a manufacturer.” 

“I suggested that he leave a fund for a temper- 
ance club-house, Mr. Frazier,” said Mr. Sterling, 
“or provide for a public park. Either is much 
needed, but he prefers to do something of more di- 
rect benefit to the industrial classes and more in 
consonance with his life work. Of course we only 
want him to consult his own feelings for we know 
that God will smile upon the good deed, no matter 
what it may be.” 

“I have thought,” continued Mr. Ashbell, slowly, 
“that I would leave $200,000 to found an industrial 
school for the children of those who work in the 
mill and others in the city. At present we are 
obliged to get our chemists and designers, and most 
of our best textile workers, from England. But I 


THE BENEFACTION 


337 


want to give our own people a chance, and at the 
same time insure the supremacy of the business 
which I have built up and which I hope to leave in 
good hands. What do you think of it?” 

Frazier was pleased and at once deeply impressed 
with the idea. “It is most thoughtful, practical and 
generous of you, Mr. Ashbell,” he saii “And let 
me suggest that there also be a department of eco- 
nomics and sociology, where a knowledge of the cor- 
rect relations of capital and labor — of employer and 
employed — may be thoroughly acquired. The pres- 
ent derangements and disturbances of the workers 
and their employers arise from ignorance of causes 
and effects — ignorance of the laws of political econ- 
omy — and not from any difference in the moral 
natures of either. A man’s character is not changed 
by his transference from the ranks of the employed 
to those of the employer, nor from a change of em- 
ployer to employed. Injustice is the result of a 
false point of view. Your idea is splendid.” 

“Then,” added Ashbell, “I have been thinking as 
I lay here of the family of poor Jim Powers, and 
what is to become of them now he has gone. Powers 
gave up his life for me although I had always 
thought he was my enemy. The least I can do is to 
see that those he left behind shall not suffer. So I 
have left them the income of $25,000, the amount to 
be paid every three months. I want you and Mr. 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


338 

Sterling with my wife to be trustees of the industrial 
school and of the Powers fund, and my attorney will 
soon be here to draw up the papers. I’ll have to ask 
you both to come over here again about five o’clock 
to-day, when everything will be ready for our signa- 
tures. But the doctor will soon be here and I don’t 
want to do any more talking than necessary.” 

In a very few words, Frazier again expressed his 
approbation of the benefaction, and then with the 
clergyman he withdrew to talk the matter over 
further. 

“A grand work of benevolence,” said Mr. Sterl- 
ing when they parted. “Mr. Ashbell has been a 
true Christian for many years.” 

Returning to the Review office Frazier told Don- 
ald what was to be done. 

“Nothing like trouble nor the facing of death to 
produce good deeds,” was Donald’s comment. 

“Nothing like trouble to develop — to bring them 
out. If they are not in us they will never come 
out, no matter what the occasion,” corrected 
Frazier. 


CHAPTER XXXVIH 

He has not the tune but the song. — French Proverb. 

Although more matter-of-fact daylight, and the 
absence of a stimulant somewhat dampened Mr. 
Piggott’s confidence and courage in his idea of the 
night before that he might be able to win Miss Col- 
ton, he resolved to make the attempt, and that even- 
ing found him at the door of her residence. As was 
his custom when entering into any momentous or 
delicate transaction, he had again consulted the 
flask in his desk although its effect was not notice- 
able except to those who knew him best, and cer- 
tainly not to Miss Colton, who greeted him 
pleasantly. 

“How do you enjoy your new profession of edit- 
ing the Gazette?” she asked. 

“Why, I am so much pleased with it that I wish 
I had gone into the business before,” he said. “And 
I am far better adapted to it than I had imagined. 
I find I took hold of the Gazette at just the right 
time. Had I not done so, Mr. Rand would have 
been obliged before long to suspend his publication. 
The fact is, he was not fitted for the business, and 
without taking too much to myself, I may say that 
339 


340 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


it requires a somewhat unusual intellectual capacity 
to run a newspaper successfully. You would be sur- 
prised to see how the paper has increased in circula- 
tion and influence since I purchased it. The bet- 
ter classes in the community have at last, I flatter 
myself, a newspaper that they can read with some 
degree of satisfaction, and although I don’t want to 
run down my neighbors, it is pretty well known that 
our best people will not read the Review under any 
consideration.” 

Miss Colton was non-committal. She did not 
enter into a discussion of the merits of the two 
newspapers, nor did she tell Mr. Piggott that she 
herself was a constant reader of the Review and 
that it was on the library table while they were 
speaking. 

“In fact, one of my objects in calling this even- 
ing,” continued Mr. Piggott, “was to ask you to 
write an article for the Gazette on the subject of 
orchids. You are known to be a connoisseur of them 
and have a large number of varieties. Of course 
I know you would not do this for any money con- 
sideration, but such an article would be read with 
a good deal of interest by your friends, and I should 
try to recompense you in some way.” 

“I am afraid you will have to excuse me, Mr. 
Piggott,” she replied. “I could not say anything on 
the subject that would be new or instructive. Let 


THE SUITOR 


341 


me suggest that you send one of your reporters up 
to the public library where he can easily get the 
material for an article that would answer your pur- 
pose.” 

Mr. Piggott thought that this might do after all, 
but said he certainly would take the liberty of having 
it sent to her for revision after it was prepared. 

Miss Colton consented to do that. Finally Mr. 
Piggott asked her if she had any objection to taking 
him through her conservatory. She replied that 
she would do so with pleasure any day that he cared 
to call. 

Mr. Piggott did not seem to be making much 
headway with his suit and he turned to other sub- 
jects. He spoke of the fact that his little daughter 
once had the pleasure of being entertained by Miss 
Colton with other children, and how she came home 
in raptures over her hospitality. 

“It’s a hard thing for a girl so young to be left 
without a mother,” said he, “and although my wife 
has been dead for three years, I could not until re- 
cently think of having any one else take her place.” 

“It is indeed unfortunate for a child to be left 
without a mother’s care,” remarked Miss Colton. 

“I have heard of your work at the creche. Miss 
Colton, and I must say it does you great credit.” 

“I take much pleasure in it, Mr. Piggott, but Mrs. 
Rolka is now doing most of the work. I simply 


342 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


started it and am furnishing some of the means to 
carry it on. By the way, what a sad accident that 
was at the mill the other day. Have you heard how 
Mr. Ashbell is this evening?” 

“Yes, I understand he is very low. The doctors 
say that it is impossible for him to recover. They 
had great hopes of the celebrated surgeon who 
came from New York, but he expresses doubt that 
he will get well. His age is against him and it is 
now known for a certainty that his spine is fractured. 
Mr. Ashbell is one of my dearest friends. It was 
only the other day that he came to me and expressed 
a deep interest in the Gazette, and stated that he 
would like to purchase a share in it. But I could 
not see my way clear to accommodate him.” 

“Yes, I saw Mr. Frazier of the Review last even- 
ing, and he said he had just returned from Mr. Ash- 
bell’s house and was shocked to find him very ill.^’ 

“Is that so? I wonder what Frazier could have 
been there for? He made a good deal of trouble 
during the strike at the mill and in my opinion Mr. 
Ashbell don’t think much of men of that stamp?” 

“Mr. Frazier informed me that he was sent for 
on a matter of business,” remarked Miss Colton 
quietly. 

“Then I presume it might have been in relation 
to money. He is always hard up and begging. I 
am pretty confident that he tried to get money of 


THE SCHEMING 


343 

Ashbcll at the time of the foreclosure. He got on 
his knees to him and then worked against him in 
the strike. 1 try to be careful about saying any- 
thing against any one but 1 hope I shall have the op- 
portunity before long of seeing that man and telling 
him right to his face what I think of him. I find 
that is always the best way, and although I shall 
not mince words with him, I happen to know that he 
avoids me on all occasions, possibly because I am 
aware of some of his shady transactions.” 

Miss Colton did not express an opinion, but when 
Piggott arose to go, he said he had spent such a 
pleasant evening that he would take the liberty of 
calling again as soon as possible. On his way home 
he dropped into the Gazette office, lighted the gas, 
and quenched his thirst with another draught at the 
fiask. 

“Not a bad beginning,” said he to himself, “al- 
thought I am sorry I couldn’t get her to write that 
article on orchids. However, I shall have an ex- 
cuse to go again. I clinched that before I came 
away. She’s a mighty fine girl; handsome, clever 
and rich. She seems to know that fellow, Frazier, 
pretty well, but I’ll fix that in some way. I wonder 
what he was over to Ashbell’s for the other day. I 
hope he’s in trouble about money, but if he is, he 
won’t get much satisfaction out of Jim Ashbell. So 


344 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Frazier calls to see Vera Colton? Well, let him. 
I’ll have her before he gets his eyes open.” 

Piggott looked over his evening mail and soon 
closed the office and went home, satisfied on the 
whole, with his evening’s work. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 

One abides not long on the summit of fortune. — Proverb. 

James Ashbell lingered for several days, but his 
physicians gave no hope from the first of his recov- 
ery, and he finally sank away peacefully, after hav- 
ing made a careful disposition of his property. He 
faced death in the Ashbell way, calmly and without 
fear. Before the end came, he sent for his sister, 
and old discords were forgotten. Indeed, Mr. 
Ashbell remarked somewhat jocularly that he had 
tried to make his peace with every one and could 
see no reason why he should not likewise do so with 
his own sister. Then in a more serious vein, he said 
he hoped she would remember him as they were in 
the long ago before his life had been engulfed by 
business cares. During the hour of the funeral the 
big mill was closed, and owing to the prominence of 
the deceased in business and political circles, it was 
largely attended. Although it had not been given 
out officially, the announcement was made in both 
newspapers that Mr. Ashbell had left a large sum 
of money for the purpose of establishing a free tex- 
tile and technical school in the city, and that Harold 
Frazier had been selected as one of the trustees. 

345 


346 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


This latter fact caused some comment, although it 
was remarked that Mr. Ashbell’s selection of Fra- 
zier to assist in carrying out the idea showed as 
good judgment as the enterprise showed his change 
of heart. 

The funeral was attended from the First Baptist 
church. The Rev. Mr. Sterling delivered an im- 
pressive eulogy, making special reference to the gen- 
erous bequest for a technical school, which would be 
a lasting memorial. After it was all over. Uncle 
Ben Huntington who had attended to pay his last 
respects to his old school friend, dropped into the 
Review office where he was always welcome, and had 
a talk with Frazier. 

“Suddin, wasn’t it, the way Jim Ashbell was cut 
off?” he said, “but that’s the way I want to go. 
Want ’er wear out an’ not rust out. He an’ I were 
school-boys together and I knew his good p’ints and 
his bad ones. I alius thought he was a pooty hard 
taskmaster, but ef a man’s goin’ to do business, who’s 
goin’ to run it — himself or someone else who don’t 
furnish the money? Durndest idea I ever heard, 
that a man can’t control what belongs to him.” 

“Yes, Uncle Ben, but a man’s work — his labor, 
his toil — is just as much his personal ownership. 
Why should any one else try to control that, either?” 

“Shouldn’t, by thunder I Let ever tub stand on 
its own bottom. But I wonder what made Ashbell 


THE IMPRESSION 


347 

turn round so suddin and leave so much money fer 
the workin’ people?” 

“I think,” said Frazier, “that the fact that one 
of the workers sacrificed his life in getting him from 
the burning building made a deep impression on his 
mind. He seemed to have become greatly softened 
when I saw him just before he died, and it often 
requires some such experience as that to bring out 
the good in a man that would otherwise lie dor- 
mant.” 

“P’raps so. Well, I see Piggott’s bought out the 
Gazette and made an evenin’ paper on’t. What 
does he know about runnin’ a newspaper ? I haven’t 
seen it more’n once or twice sence he took hold 
of it, an’ it looks to me as ef he had bit off more’n 
he could chew. Is he hurtin’ you any?” 

“Very little. Uncle Ben. For a week or two the 
Review lost some advertising and a few readers, but 
it has now made them all up, and we are doing 
nicely.” 

“I hain’t had no use fer it sence it was a mornin’ 
paper and Rand had it. I take the Weekly Try- 
bune for politics and farmin’, and the Review fer 
news. Ef you’d only give us a little better Repub- 
lican doctrine, I wouldn’t take the Trybune. I 
swan, I never could find out where you stand per- 
litically. Sometimes you are on one side of the 
fence and sometimes t’other, and sometimes right up 


348 WHATS HE TO ME? 

on the top rail. You ain’t trying to ketch ’em all, 
are ye?” 

“By no means, Uncle Ben. The Review tries to 
mould public opinion, and to lead rather than follow 
political parties.” 

“That’s all right enough, but I want to see a 
newspaper keep either one side of the fence or 
t’other. Howsumever, I like to read the Review 
editorials to see what ye have to say. I understand, 
but I’d ruther it didn’t come from me, that Piggott’s 
gettin’ hard up fer money. Runnin’ behind. Well, 
he won’t have Jim Ashbell to go to now. Ashbell 
used to be the man that every one went to when he 
got in a tight place. Why, that man had a mort- 
gage on every other business man in town. He’d 
alius help ’em, but he took mighty good care to let 
none of ’em get in the king row. But he ain’t any 
better off to-day than ef he hadn’t left a dollar. 
Funny, ain’t it, how a man’ll work an’ pinch an’ 
squirm for a dollar, when all he can get out of life 
anyway is his board an’ clothes? But what Ash- 
bell liked better’n anythin’ else was power. He 
wanted to rule everythin’ an’ he knew that money 
would do it. When people owed him then they’d 
be afraid of him, an’ that’s just what he liked. An’ 
then there’s another funny thing: The churches are 
full of rich men, an’ yet ef they take the Bible fer 
what it says, there ain’t no standin’ room fer ’em in 


THE SPIRIT 


349 


heaven. The hull Ashbell family has got lots of 
grit, but it looks as ef Jim was ruther ’fraid to die, 
after all, or else he wouldn’t have tried to square 
accounts just before he left. But that’s human 
natur’. Still, I don’t believe any one’s goin’ to pull 
wool over the eyes of the Almighty. Wa’al, I sup- 
pose we’d better let Him do the jedgin’. I some- 
times think I’ve got more’n I desarve and more’n I 
need. If ye get cramped for money, Mr. Frazier, 
come to me; I think I can accommodate you. Ef 
whoever let ye have that $10,000 is inclined to make 
any trouble. I’d be only too glad to help ye out. 
Sence I cut up that northeast corner of my farm fer 
house lots, money’s ben cornin’ in pooty easy.” 

“I am very much obliged. Uncle Ben, but I have 
already paid off the larger share of the loan and 
my creditor is not troubling me. If things continue 
going on well, I shall be able to make the last pay- 
ment in a few months and will then be out of debt. 
By the way, I have had it in mind that it would 
be a good idea to celebrate the event; give a little 
dinner down at the City Hotel, invite a few of the 
friends of the Review who have stood by it through 
thick and thin and give them a good time. What 
do you say to that?” 

“Mighty good idea. You’ll have a few speeches 
and toasts, I s’pose. It’s well enough to have a 


350 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


good time once in a while, fer when we die, we may 
not get another chance.” 

When Uncle Ben had gone, Frazier broached 
the idea to Donald of celebrating his freedom from 
debt in some sort of a formal way. “We want to 
have every employe of the Review there,” said he, 
“and why can’t we get our unknown benefactor to 
come also? It seems to me nothing could be more 
appropriate. We will ask some of the business men 
of the city and indulge not in self-glorification, but 
self-gratification.” 

Donald thought it was a capital idea, but he 
would not promise to have the unknown friend pres- 
ent who had supplied the money. “That might be 
impossible,” said he. 

“But surely, Don, you won’t object to telling me 
whether it is any one I know personally — an ac- 
quaintance, a friend, a politician or a business man?” 

“I am sorry, but I must keep my word and give 
you no information as to that at present. When I 
have liberty to speak I shall do so with a good deal 
of pleasure, I can assure you.” 


CHAPTER XL 

There’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip. 

Mr. Piggott’s calls upon Miss Colton became 
frequent. Not that he received anything specific to 
encourage him in his suit; indeed, had he possessed 
a keener perception, he would have learned other- 
wise. But the case was getting desperate in relation 
to his finances. The Gazette was running behind 
several hundred dollars a week, and instead of a 
tendency to get better, matters were constantly be- 
coming worse. Piggott could devise no more sat- 
isfactory way out of his financial difficulty than to 
secure an alliance with Miss Colton. Yet he him- 
self was wise enough to know that the chances were 
somewhat against him, although like a drowning 
man, he was glad to catch at that straw. 

He called one evening with a book under his arm 
which he was going to ask Miss Colton to review 
at her leisure. He somehow found it difficult to 
get upon anything like familiar terms with her. 
And this evening he resolved to know his fate, if 
possible. He had scarcely got seated, however, and 
made reference to the book which he desired Miss 
351 


352 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


Colton to read, when the doorbell rang, and a serv- 
ant announced Harold Frazier. 

According to Mr. Ashbell’s wish the plans for the 
textile school were begun at once. He expressly 
stated in his will that as a good many young women 
worked in the mill, they were to be admitted to the 
school on the same terms as young men. Knowing 
Miss Colton’s knowledge and interest in similar in- 
stitutions elsewhere, Frazier had come to consult her 
concerning some of the details of the plan. Miss 
Colton was somewhat agitated. After Piggott’s 
remark on a former occasion as to his feelings for 
Frazier, which showed his hatred, she feared a scene 
if they should meet. 

“Mr. Piggott, Mr. Frazier is in the parlor. You 
have expressed yourself as very unfriendly to him, 
but of course you will treat him politely when he 
comes in. I should very much dislike any unpleas- 
antness between my guests.’’ 

“Of course. Miss Colton, I will do anything for 
you, but if it were not in this house, I would not 
answer for the consequences.” 

When Frazier entered the room, Piggott was 
most uncomfortable in appearance and manner and 
had the alert look of a man who is on the defensive. 
On the other hand Frazier was perfectly calm, and 
after nodding to Piggott began at once to explain 
the object of his visit. But there was something in 


THE PROPOSAL 


353 


the atmosphere that he did not understand. He 
wondered if he were de trop. Miss Colton, always 
so frank and cordial, seemed constrained. Was 
she annoyed that he had come? Had he disturbed 
her evening’s visit with this man? What was Pig- 
gott doing there, any way? These thoughts came 
to his mind at once. When his business was com- 
pleted and he had received the necessary informa- 
tion from Miss Colton concerning the proposed 
school, he formally withdrew, leaving Piggott 
seated in an easy chair and glad that he had the 
field to himself. Miss Colton left Frazier at the 
door and when she returned, Piggott said: 

“Miss Colton, now that Frazier has gone, I am 
myself again. I know him so well that I can’t bear 
to meet him. I came here this evening on a really 
important errand — one that concerns me more deep- 
ly than anything else in the world.” 

He arose and walking across the room, seated 
himself in a chair beside her. 

“Ever since I knew you, I have admired you at 
a distance, and since I have been coming here, that 
admiration has turned to love. Now that my news- 
paper is doing so well, I feel more than ever that I 
need some one to preside over my home and to as- 
sume the position of the wife of a man who oc- 
cupies more or less of a public position. I am a 
business man and one of very few words. Some 


354 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


men might flatter you more, but that is not my way. 
Will you marry me?” 

Miss Colton started. Her face flushed. Pig- 
gott’s declaration was as unexpected as it was per- 
plexing. Under some circumstances she might have 
been more diplomatic and sympathetic in her refusal. 
Her reply was almost brusque and quite in contrast 
to her usual gentle manner. 

‘‘Why, Mr. Piggott, you startle me. Surely you 
must misunderstand me utterly. I could not under 
any consideration think of marrying where I have 
no love and I beg you to forget that you ever 
thought of making me your wife.” 

Piggott was not prepared for such a summary 
dismissal. He was disappointed, humiliated, an- 
gry. The situation was embarrassing but rather 
less from the standpoint of affection than from busi- 
ness. He hardly knew what to say. His principal 
thought was how to excuse himself and get away 
with fairly becoming dignity. 

“Well, Miss Colton,” he said as he rose to go, 
“of course I’m sorry for your feelings, but I won’t 
trouble you longer. However, you may go further 
and fare worse, but that is neither here nor there. 
If I had known how you felt, I should never have 
broached this subject. I hope, however, you will 
forget the matter and still consider me your friend. 
Good evening.” 


THE BLOW 


355 

Then he went out into the cool air, more than 
ever perplexed as to the outcome of his financial 
difficulty, which really caused him more discourage- 
ment than the blow to his vanity. 

The next day, when he was presented with the 
weekly balance sheet of his newspaper business, his 
courage seemed to have oozed quite away. 

“What,” said he, “are we running behindhand 
as much as this? I’ll sell this paper for a song to 
any one who will buy it. It’s all well enough for 
you men to draw your salaries who don’t have the 
bills to pay, but I don’t see any good trying to build 
it up so it will pay its way. I’ll get it off my hands 
if any one will make me a decent offer for it.” 

“How much will you sell it for, Mr. Piggott?” 
asked the business manager. 

“What good would it do to tell you? You 
haven’t got any money to buy it.” 

“If you will name a price, and a reasonable one, 
I will bring you a customer in fifteen minutes,” re- 
plied the business manager. 

“Well, I’ll take $18,000 for it, and that’s $10,000 
less than it has cost me.” 

“If you will say $15,000, I’ll bring you a pur- 
chaser right away; otherwise I think you will have 
to go on without the services of some of the men 
who don’t care to be blamed for things for which 
they are not responsible.” 


356 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


“All right; bring on your man. I’ll sell and 
right away,’’ said Piggott, somewhat sharply, but 
hardly expecting that his offer would be accepted. 

The business manager put on his hat and left the 
office. In ten minutes he returned with Mr. Rand, 
the former owner. Piggott was surprised, but he 
had no thought of recanting. In an hour the prop- 
erty had been turned over to its former owner 
who said he should change the paper back to its old 
form and to a morning issue at once. 

The next day Paul Downs came into the Review 
office with the remark: “You’re a good prophet, 
Mr. Frazier; Piggott has sold the Gazette back to 
Mr. Rand and it is to be changed to a morning is- 
sue. Rand made a good thing of it — $5,000 in 
cash and a new press. He can take the $5,000 to 
put the paper back where it was when he sold it and 
still have a new press into the bargain.’’ 

“But Piggott acted wisely in selling,” said Fra- 
zier. “I was sure he would never make a success 
of it. And I’m still in town.” 


CHAPTER XU 

Women bestow on friendship only what they borrow from love, — 
Chamfort. 

Frazier was unable to understand Miss Colton’s 
attitude the night he called when he found Piggott 
there. He felt like a man who has been traveling 
an unknown but safe and pleasant highway and is 
brought up suddenly against a missing bridge or an 
abrupt precipice. Since Donald and Helen had be- 
come so absorbed in themselves, he had seen 
little of either. He had been compelled to give 
such close attention to his work that he found 
little opportunity to make friends or even acquaint- 
ances except among business men as much occupied 
as himself, so he naturally depended more and 
more upon Vera Colton for companionship. 

They had many tastes in common. Both had 
been trained in broad schools of life; Vera in 
travel among people of varying ideals and customs, 
and Frazier in the free life of the newspaper man. 
Each had suffered not only loneliness, but at times 
in their lives, privation, and their friendship, which 
began on a plane of mutual understanding had 
seemed to grow stronger and stronger by their 
similar aims and mutual purpose of making the 
357 


358 


WHAT'S HE TO ME? 


world a little better for their etiorts. Frazier had 
become a recognized power lor good in the city, and 
Vera was the idol ol the working people. 

JNow he lelt an unreasoning jealousy lest Figgott 
might have derived the same kindly counsel and 
hearty cordiality that he himself had not appreciated 
at its full worth until he saw a possibility of its 
slipping away from him. Could it be that she liked 
Figgott? Ur was it merely a coincidence ? 

in spite of the unworthy jealousy that had come 
into his heart at the picture of the self-satished 
Figgott as he said “Good evening” that night, his 
better nature told him that Vera was true and noble. 
She had been plainly agitated about something and 
that was what he could not understand. Had the 
wretch been annoying her or lying to her? if he 
had I She seemed sorry to have Figgott there and 
named an evening when she would be glad to have a 
further talk about the textile school. He would go 
in spite of everything. 

A few weeks later found him sitting one evening 
with Miss Colton in her favorite corner of the con- 
servatory. Frazier was in unusually good spirits 
over the fact that on the morrow the last payment 
of the loan would be made. He took up the even- 
ing issue of the Review from the bamboo table and 
looked it over critically. 

“The heart of a man is supposed to be a pretty 


THE GRATITUDE 


359 


callous piece of muscle compared to that of a wom- 
an,” he said, “but if I could only know who helped 
me out of my financial difficulty nearly two years 
ago, I would soon convince him that even a man’s 
heart may be touched. As you know I have never 
been able to find out who supplied the $10,000 for 
me when the Review was sold by auction. Donald 
got the money, and although he told me he was in 
no way responsible for the loan, yet I can not make 
him unfold his secret as to who supplied it. Until 
1 heard the sheriff’s dull monotonous voice going 
through his legal rigamarole, I didn’t realize how 
much I loved the paper. The love of parents for 
their children is perhaps as strong as any emotion 
in the world, but the work of a man’s brain and 
heart is just as real and precious to him. I have 
nursed the puny Review up to what it is to-day, but 
I owe the privilege of doing so to an unknown 
friend. I dislike to feel under obligations without 
being able to express my gratitude. Instead of 
harming me, Piggott has helped to give the paper 
a fresh start and to push it as 1 could not possibly 
have done; but hate often rebounds and does more 
good than harm. I have a feeling that it may be 
Denny McGrath who loaned the money, although 
I don’t like to ask him, as he seems to prefer hiding 
his benefactions. He used to attribute it to his 


36 o 


WHATS HE TO ME? 


fear of Ashbell, but I imagine his own modest and 
honest heart has something to do with it.” 

“Perhaps it is just as well that you are not too 
insistent or curious about the matter,” said Vera, 
“for that might cause Mr. McGrath or whoever 
made you the loan some embarrassment.” 

“Possibly; but I am looking anxiously forward to 
to-morrow when the obligation will be cancelled. 
Then I suppose the mystery can be explained, and I 
shall have an opportunity to express my thanks. I 
am to give a small dinner at the City Hotel to-mor- 
row night to the employes and friends of the paper, 
and I hope Don will succeed in persuading my un- 
known benefactor to be present, so that I may tell 
him how I appreciate all he has done for me.” 

“I hope Mr. Donald can do so,” said Vera. 

“I would like to ask you and Miss Warren and 
even Mrs. Royal Quincy — who by the way is quite 
a good friend of mine now — to be present but no 
ladies are to be there.” 

It seemed to Frazier that Vera had never looked 
so radiant and charming as at that moment, and af- 
ter a moment’s silence, he said: 

“It is hard to express what is in my heart. I can 
write what I feel when it concerns other people, but 
when it comes to the things that lie deepest, my lips 
are dumb.” 

“That is the way with all strong natures.” 


THE COMPENSATION 361 

“But I can’t half begin to thank you,” continued 
Frazier, “for all the happy little evenings I’ve had 
here. You have helped me in so many ways, but I 
didn’t realize how much I depended on you nor how 
much I valued your friendship until I found Percy 
Piggott here and wanted to pitch him into the 
street. But somehow I’m not as grateful after all 
as I should be. I feel like a beggar, for I am not 
satisfied with friendship; I want more, Vera; I want 
you. Am I asking too much?” 

Frazier read the answer he sought in the eyes 
turned to his own, faithful and strong as Truth 
itself. 

♦ >|c ♦ * 

The dinner on the following night was most suc- 
cessful and pleasant. There were impromptu re- 
marks by a good many of the office force, as well as 
by Denny McGrath and Uncle Ben Huntington. 

After it was all over Frazier expressed his disap- 
pointment to Donald that the unknown friend had 
not been revealed to him. 

“But I am going to do that now,” said Don. 
“Come this way.” 

He took Frazier into a small parlor adjoining, 
and there he found Helen and Vera Colton. 

“This is the unknown friend who let you have the 
$10,000,” said Donald, as he led Miss Colton for- 
ward, her face radiant in spite of her downcast eyes. 


362 


WHATS HE TO MEf 


“What, you? And I never guessed. Why 
didn’t you tell us the night of the fair?” 

Vera looked up archly. 

“You loved me then?” 

“From the very first.” 


THE END. 


















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